My Fair Brother
by SeveRemus
Summary: Even the High King of Narnia could not have everything he wanted, as Peter had quickly found out. And the one thing he wanted more than anything else was his beautiful brother, King Edmund. MM slash/shonen-ai and incest.
1. The Madness of King Peter

"And more," said Queen Lucy, "for it will not go out of my mind that if we pass this post and lantern, either we shall find strange adventures or else some great change of our fortunes."  
"Madam," said King Edmund, "the like foreboding stirreth in my heart also."  
"And in mine, fair brother," said King Peter.  
"And in mine too," said Queen Susan.

* * *

My Fair Brother

* * *

Peter, High King of Narnia, stepped out of his royal bedroom on to the balcony facing the sea. The night breeze was brisk, blowing and tugging at the belt of his dressing gown as though admonishing him to return to the warmth of his bed. He had, at least, remembered to wear his slippers, without which the marble floor would have been chill against his bare feet, even now in the full bloom of spring. But the bracing ocean wind was a welcome friend that he had come to rely upon in the past few years, a councillor who cooled his body from feverish fantasies and moored his drifting dreams to reality.

It was madness, he knew, to be so disturbed from his rest by unnatural yearnings for one for whom he should, by all rights, harbour only fraternal if not regal affection. But nearly every night King Peter heaved sighs of impossible longing for his brother, King Edmund, who was fast growing from a boy into a youth, and thereon even more swiftly to manhood.

#

Just that day they had been sparring in the courtyard with blunt swords, and Edmund had disarmed him with a clever turn of his wrist. The younger king's expression of joy and proud triumph had taken the elder's breath away. Indeed, Peter had been so awestruck by the beauty of his brother's face that he was amazed that none other remarked upon it. And afterwards, sharing a stoup of water mixed with some wine to quench their thirst, he had observed his dark-haired sibling languidly leaning against the marble railing of the inner porch, his arms outstretched on either side as he rested his back against a column.

"I think I should have this blade bronzed," Edmund had jested, frank pleasure curving his lips. "It's the first time that I've ever bested you in a match!"

"It will hardly be the last, I'll warrant," Peter had replied, as much pleased at the outcome as his brother, despite his own loss. "And if you go bronzing every blade that you use to beat me, soon the castle keep will be filled with bronzed, blunt, useless swords!"

They had shared in easy laughter as their sisters and courtiers looked on, but for King Peter, the only one who mattered in that golden moment was King Edmund — his brother, his most trusted advisor, and the greatest, most desperate love of his life.

#

The breeze was turning cold now, but Peter lingered still on the balcony. In his mind's eye he was recalling the slender form of Edmund as he had leant against the porch, willing that image to overlie the railing before him now. His brother's hands were outstretched, just so, with his shoulders hunched ever so slightly, and if Peter half-closed his eyes he could almost see the wind tousling Edmund's dark hair.

Oh, to be permitted to tousle it himself, running his fingers through the silky black strands! Or better yet, to slip his hands around that slim waist and clasp that graceful figure to his own! But Peter knew that it would not end there; once begun, he would not be able to restrain himself from unleashing all of his unseemly passion upon his brother. And that would be the end of them both, for Edmund would be gravely affronted and aggrieved by such an outpouring of unnatural, unbridled lust, and Peter, for his own part, would be too ashamed to ever face Edmund or any other living creature again.

And so Peter reined in his base desires, denying himself any hope of release from the prison built around him by his own heart and mind.

###

Not many days later, King Peter sat resting in a comfortable chair overlooking the gardens on the west side of the castle. The day's work was done, and his sisters (the two queens) were gathering a few roses for the table while dinner was being prepared. They had just dispatched a small troop of Dwarfs to investigate the rumours of an Ettin spotted in the hills near Archenland, and although the High King had begun his musings on the unlikelihood of there being any giants — let alone two-headed ones — that far to the south, his thoughts had quickly turned to his brother, who had been persuaded to help Queen Susan in her quest for the perfect bouquet. He was now holding the stem of one particularly lovely white rose as Queen Lucy used her little dagger to cut it.

Both of his sisters were beautiful, King Peter knew, each in her own way. Susan's dark tresses were as lustrous as her deep blue eyes, and she was like a rosebud on the cusp of the full bloom of womanhood. Lucy was a bright daisy, cheerful and gay, whose laughter delighted the hearts of all who heard her. But it was the poise and beauty of his brother Edmund that captivated his eyes, as the younger boy's slender fingers deftly bent a wandering branch out of his sisters' path. Peter had to force himself to shift his gaze to Susan as she approached him, holding out the flowers for his inspection and approval.

"Aren't they beautiful?" she asked, her cheeks rosy and rivaling the blooms.

"Indeed they are," Peter replied in a tone of royal approbation. "But no fairer than the hands that bear them."

Susan blushed delicately at the compliment, while Lucy perched herself on the armrest of Peter's chair.

"I'm so glad Mr. Tumnus found someone to prune them properly. I'm sure there are twice as many flowers this year as last!" she declared.

"Maybe not twice," Edmund laughed, "but they sure are outdoing themselves this year. You could have a new bouquet every day if you wanted."

"Oh, but that would be wasteful," Susan objected. "I'm sure they'd much rather be out in the garden than cut and placed in a vase indoors! And if the Dryads hadn't assured us that it wouldn't hurt them, I couldn't bear to cut them at all."

"You had better put those in water, then," Peter mildly pointed out, and the two girls agreed, leaving just the two brothers on the terrace.

"Penny for your thoughts," Edmund asked, as Peter looked back out at the garden to avoid looking at his enticingly handsome brother.

"Oh... nothing much," he answered with studied indifference. He was startled, however, when Edmund blocked his view, moving to stand in front of him.

"You've been mooning over something for quite some time now," the younger king stated, crossing his arms and knitting his brows like thunderclouds on the mountains. "Even Lucy's caught on. You've been... distracted, distant. Susan thought you might snap out of it once it got warmer, but here you are, staring off into space again. What is it that you're not telling us?"

"I... well, I—I've had a lot on my mind," Peter stammered out. "That's all! I mean, I **am** High King over all Narnia, and have more responsibility than any of y—"

"That's rubbish, and you know it!" Edmund interrupted. "We all make the decisions together, even if you **do** get to have the final say. And apart from that rumour of an Ettin down by Archenland — which is highly unlikely, if you ask me, and probably an old tree stump that someone saw after drinking too much at a spring dance — Narnia hasn't been so peaceful in literally a hundred years. There's absolutely nothing for you to be brooding **about**."

Edmund's scowl had deepened as he stated his points, but Peter could barely pay heed to his words. He could not help noticing that even scowling, his brother was handsome in a lordly way, and when Edmund paused, awaiting some response from him, Peter swallowed as though he were a small child who had forgotten how to do his sums.

"Well?" Edmund demanded, his keen eyes taking in his brother's discomfiture. A slight feeling of unease began to grow in his breast as he realised that Peter was avoiding his gaze. He was staring at Edmund's boots, as though some magical answer would appear there. Shaking off his own new-born anxiety, Edmund decided to test some of his theories.

"Are you worried about Mother and Father?" he prodded, in a gentler tone.

Peter shook his head. "No. Somehow I think... if Aslan wants us here, it's all right — he's taking care of everything. I don't even know **how** I know that, but... I feel certain about it."

"I know what you mean," Edmund agreed, mentally scratching that off of his list. "Are you worried that the Calormenes might attack us?"

"The Tisroc? No. He would never risk crossing the desert, and their fleet is too small to carry an army of any worth," was Peter's calm assessment. He was regaining his composure, mostly because he was keeping his eyes closed, as though pondering the questions posed to him.

"The Giants to the north?"

"Not likely. We may have a few more skirmishes, of course, before they learn their lesson properly, but we've made sure that the northern border is well defended. The Centaurs would never let them cross it without a fight."

"So what is it, then?" Edmund asked, running out of ideas. That is, all except one, which Susan had suggested several weeks ago, but he did not feel like bringing it up at the moment. _And anyway,_ he thought, _it's ridiculous! Peter is the High King, after all._

But High King or not, Peter was now backed into a corner and, like a rabbit chased down by a terrier, he knew that there would be no escape until he had answered Edmund to his satisfaction. He finally met his brother's brown eyes, hesitating for a moment before speaking in a low tone.

"Ed... have you ever been in love?" he asked.

Edmund blinked, caught off-guard despite the fact that Susan had suggested this very thing.

"I... uh... no," he managed to reply, his cheeks flushing to a bright pink. Peter heaved a deep sigh, longing to kiss those cheeks, and cast his eyes back down to his brother's boots.

"It's not all that it's cracked up to be," he informed him with sober mien. "If the other person isn't in love with you... it can be the hardest thing in the world to bear."

"B—But... Peter, you're the **High King!**" Edmund pointed out, rather needlessly. "Who **wouldn't** want to be... y'know... your... sweetheart."

As the younger brother blushed furiously at the term, a smile crossed the older brother's downcast face, although it was overshadowed with sadness.

"This may come as a surprise to you," Peter responded dryly, "but some women don't give a fig about how important you are, even if you're a king. And it's not like I could **command** them to love me... I wouldn't be much of a king, then, would I?"

"No," Edmund admitted. "You'd be a tyrant. And I don't think you'd stay king for long if Aslan found out."

"Exactly."

"But, look here," Edmund said, still nonplussed, "even if she doesn't care two pence about your being king, why wouldn't she like you well enough, you know, for just being **Peter?**"

The High King of all Narnia came close to tears upon hearing the confidence implied in his brother's words. He took a deep breath to steel himself, and replied with care.

"I appreciate the sentiment," he said, making an attempt at levity, "but not all women are swept off of their feet by my charms."

"But have you tried to... well, **woo** her, at all?" Edmund persisted. "If she knew how much you liked her, maybe she'd change her mind..."

Peter's lips curled with humour at those words.

"And how, pray tell," he began, "would I actually **woo** this lady?"

"I don't know... Write her poetry and stuff," his young brother responded.

"Hmm. I hadn't thought of that," Peter said, a grin audible in his tone. "So I know now that if you should ever start writing poetry, you're in serious danger of falling in l—"

"Oh, come off it!" Edmund interrupted crossly. "We're supposed to be talking about **you**."

"Were we?" Peter replied, still smirking. "What about that Mermaid who was singing to you the other day? She was breathtaking."

"Of course she was pretty — they **all** are," Edmund retorted. "But she was no more singing to **me** than to any of us! I just happened to be standing closest to her, that's all."

Peter's smile was becoming more genuine, although he had not been ingenuous in posing this question to his brother. He had noticed, on the first day of spring when the Merfolk had come to sing, how entranced Edmund had been by one particularly beautiful Mermaid, and it had pained him to think that his brother would soon become a man and would one day woo and wed a lady who met his fancy. But he was relieved to hear him vehemently deny any special attachment to the Mermaid — the day when Edmund would be lost to him for good was yet some time ahead.

"If you say so," Peter drawled, hoping that he hadn't irritated his brother overmuch. "And it's just as well, since I doubt it would work out — she being a creature of the sea and all."

"Of course it wouldn't," Edmund scowled. "I'm not daft, you know! I wouldn't fall for someone like **that**."

Peter's eyes suddenly lost the mirth that had filled them with light, and he stared out across the garden again in pensive meditation.

"It's not so easy," he murmured, in a voice so low that his brother could barely hear him. "You can't choose the one for whom you fall. Sometimes... even if you know it's impossible, you just can't help it."

Edmund opened his mouth as though to form an answer, but remained silent, observing Peter with a growing heaviness of heart. He thought he finally understood what had been troubling the High King for the past few months.

As he stood there by his brother, unable to offer any words of comfort, the silver bells in the Great Hall began to ring, signaling to all in the castle that dinner was ready to be served.

* * *

A/N: Edmund is about 13~14 and Peter 17~18, around three years after they came to Narnia.


	2. The Secret and the Confession

My Fair Brother

* * *

Edmund was playing chess that evening with Lucy, while Susan chatted with Mr. Tumnus about possibly planning a trip to Galma in the _Splendor Hyaline_. Peter sat by the fire (which had been lit more for its cozy ambience than actual heat) and pretended to read a book. He was using a rather large tome so that he could steal long looks at Edmund, who furrowed his brows every time Lucy made a move, as she had become quite good from playing with Mr. Tumnus all the time. Peter had forgotten to turn the pages in a while, so absorbed was he in watching the various expressions that passed over his brother's face, and was startled when he finally heard Susan call his name.

"What was that?" he asked, closing the book to give her his full attention.

"I was just saying, do you think it's too early in the season to go to the Lone Islands? I wouldn't want to be caught in a spring storm at sea," Susan repeated.

"I should think not. But that's a question best asked of our sea-faring folk," Peter replied, rising to put the book back on the shelf. He decided to give up his ruse, inwardly scolding himself for dwelling on that which he could not have.

"Perhaps we could ask some of the Marsh-Wiggles what they think the weather will be like," Susan said in a bland tone, although her words made Edmund and Lucy look up at her sharply in disbelief. "They live by the sea, so they should know best when it will be safe to set sail..."

"Yes, of course. Sounds like a good plan," Peter responded absently, stretching his arms that had grown heavy from holding the large book. "I'll leave you to it, then," he continued, not noticing the look of alarm on the faces of his two youngest siblings. "I think I'll turn in now. Goodnight, everyone."

"Goodnight, Peter," and "Goodnight, your Majesty," rang out from the other four, but all of them exchanged troubled looks after he had left the room.

"He didn't bat an eye when you suggested getting advice from the Marsh-Wiggles," Edmund pointed out in shock, "as if they wouldn't jolly well try to talk you out of setting sail in the first place!"

"I had to call his name three times just to get his attention," Susan added. "He wasn't reading that book at all... I didn't see him turn a page for ten whole minutes!"

"I wish I knew what was bothering him so," Lucy said with a little sigh.

Mr. Tumnus regarded all three of them and asked, quite reasonably, "Why not **ask** him?"

"You're right, Mr. Tumnus," Susan agreed. "We should simply ask him instead of wondering like we are, which doesn't do anybody a bit of good. Lucy, you should ask him tomorrow — he'll be more likely to talk to you."

"Why do you say that?" Lucy replied with surprise. "He's just as likely to talk to you, Su, since you're the next oldest; or you, Ed, because you're a boy!"

Edmund was feeling slightly uncomfortable at this point, torn between telling his sisters what he had already found out from Peter — which felt like betraying a confidence — and keeping what he knew to himself — which also felt like a betrayal, since his sisters were only worried for Peter's own sake. While Susan, Lucy, and Mr. Tumnus discussed who would be the best candidate to confront the High King, Edmund decided to walk the fine line of diplomacy.

"Look here," he interrupted, "why don't we just leave Peter alone? He can tell us if he wants to. Maybe he's not telling us because he doesn't want to, or maybe he just **can't**."

"I suppose that's true," Susan said unhappily, "but it's been going on for so long... And what if he's just **waiting** for someone to ask him? You know how sometimes you really want to talk to someone, but can't bring yourself to it unless they ask you first?"

"Well... yeah..." Edmund was obliged to concede.

"It's not like Peter to keep secrets from us," Lucy mused pensively. "I do hope it's nothing too horrid!"

"But maybe... maybe it's something that we can't help him with," Edmund doggedly suggested. "Maybe he doesn't want to tell us because we would only worry more if we knew, but wouldn't be able to do a single thing about it."

"That **would** be like Peter — trying to protect us from something awful and taking all the responsibility on himself," Susan fretted. "But I do wish he would at least let us **try** to help him!"

"I wish Aslan were here," Lucy sighed again.

Edmund was beginning to feel rather sick to his stomach from keeping his sisters in the dark, especially since they were both imagining the situation to be (in his mind) far worse than it was. As he sat in silence with his thoughts churning, he did not realise that Mr. Tumnus was observing him with shrewd eyes.

"My Lord Edmund," the Faun addressed him, making him start. "Perhaps you have some idea as to what is ailing the High King? As his esteemed brother, you know his thoughts better than any other — with my humble apologies to my ladies," he added, bowing to the queens. "But if you were to hazard a guess as to what the cause may be..."

Susan and Lucy also saw the uncomfortable expression that crossed their brother's face when presented with this request, and Lucy seized upon it.

"Ed! You **do** know something, don't you? You're hiding it from us, too!"

Although she had not meant her words to come out as an accusation, her reproachful tone made Edmund capitulate.

"All right, so I do — I just don't know if I should tell," he confessed. "Peter didn't come out and swear me to secrecy or anything, but we got interrupted by the dinner bell (I was talking to him after you'd gone to find a vase for the flowers, you know) so he might not have got the chance to."

"Oh, please, Ed," Susan pleaded. "You know we only want to **help** Peter!"

"But is it, as you suggested, something for which we can offer him no help?" Mr. Tumnus asked.

"I don't know. I don't rightly know **what** to think about the whole thing..." Edmund admitted.

"Please tell us, Ed. And if it'll be better for Peter, we can pretend we don't know," Lucy said. "I just hate to think of him burdened so, without any of us to help him bear it."

"All right," Edmund agreed, and took a deep breath. "I think he's in love with a Mermaid."

"**No!**"

"Oh, poor Peter!"

Mr. Tumnus looked grave as Edmund asked him, "It's hopeless, right? A Man and a Mermaid?"

"I'm afraid so," the Faun answered. "There is an old story about a Seagull that once fell in love with a Mermaid, and dove under the waves so often to see her that it drowned. We tell the story to our kids and foals to teach them not to wish for what is impossible, lest they lose even the good things that they have."

"But how awful," said Lucy, close to tears. "Does she even **know?**"

"How could she? It's not like they can understand each other's speech," Edmund pointed out.

"Oh, but... sometimes, you can fall in love even if you can't speak to each other," Susan hesitantly suggested. "You know, how people talk about 'love at first sight'? Maybe... Maybe she **does** know, and they're both madly in love..."

Her brother shook his head. "That's not possible — at least, that's not the way Peter talked about it. He said she doesn't give a fig that he's High King, and that... well, I forget exactly what he said, but I think he mentioned how hard it is to be in love when the other person doesn't love you back..."

Now Lucy really **did** burst into tears, and Susan became weepy as well. Mr. Tumnus patted the younger queen on her shoulder as she pulled out her oft-used handkerchief.

"There now, there now," he soothed, "your brother is still young, and may very well meet another lady who will suit him better. The best thing for us to do is to let him be so that time can heal this heartache."

"Perhaps we can try to cheer him up," Susan said. "I see now why a sea voyage would never do! No wonder he was so distracted when I mentioned it. Perhaps a trip into the woods for a few days would be better, to visit the woodland people."

"Oh! And a picnic in the forest," Lucy added.

"Maybe a visit of state to Archenland — although they probably **don't** have an Ettin roaming about," Edmund contributed.

And so by the time they all headed to bed, they had come up with a dozen different ideas of things to do which they hoped would cheer up their beloved brother and High King.

###

Edmund hoped he had done the right thing in telling his sisters and Mr. Tumnus, but could not fall asleep right away. As he lay in bed, wondering if Peter had asked him about that one particular Mermaid because he was jealous of her attentions, he heard a muffled sneeze from the balcony which he shared with his brother. He got up and put on his dressing gown, then shuffled out in his slippers to find the young High King leaning against the railing, gazing out across the sea with an unfathomable expression.

"Hullo," he said, making Peter nearly jump out of his skin.

"What're you doing up?" he asked, startled.

"I couldn't sleep, and I heard you sneeze."

"Oh. Well, you shouldn't be out here — it's getting cold."

"Neither should you."

Peter sighed with a self-deprecating smile.

"You're right, we should both go inside."

As he turned and entered his own room, he was surprised to find that Edmund — beautiful Edmund, his pale skin lit blue in the moonlight — was following him.

"What is it?" he asked, trying hard not to gape.

"I need to talk to you. If you're not going to sleep right away, that is," his brother amended.

"No. I can't sleep, either," Peter told him, and motioned for him to sit with him on the edge of his bed.

"Pete... I'm sorry, but I told the girls. And Mr. Tumnus."

"Told them what?" Peter asked, not catching on.

"What you said, before dinner today."

"Oh!" Peter drew a quick breath, paling at the implication. "You mean...?"

Edmund nodded, feeling miserable. "About you and the... Mermaid."

For a second, it was on the tip of Peter's tongue to deny any such attachment to a Mermaid, but he caught himself in time. After all, he could hardly tell his brother (or sisters) the truth, so this could be a convenient misunderstanding — a misdirection of sorts.

"I'm sorry, Peter," Edmund said wretchedly, misconstruing his silence to be a reproach. "But the girls have been worried sick about you! And so have I. You haven't been yourself, it seems, for so long... We just want to help."

Peter felt his heart skip a beat at his brother's off-handed confession to having worried about him and, realising that Edmund was condemning himself for betraying an implicit trust, hurried to reassure him.

"It's all right, Ed — don't worry about it. I... I suppose they would have found out sooner or later, anyway. Girls are good at that sort of thing... And I'm sorry I've been shutting you all out. I didn't even realise that I was. I guess I've been a bit... self-absorbed..."

Of course he knew, even as he said this, that he had actually been absorbed in someone else — his fair brother, who was even now sitting next to him in the darkness. He felt such a strong urge to grab Edmund and clasp his arms about him and never let go, that it was only with a conscious effort that he kept his hands gripping his own knees.

"Susan noticed first," Edmund told him, relieved that his older brother did not seem too upset. "She said you weren't paying attention, sometimes, and stared off into space a lot. And I thought... well... I almost thought you were avoiding me for a while there."

This time, Peter feared that his heart would stop outright. When it continued to beat, however, he measured his words to respond to the all-too-true accusation.

"I'm sorry, Ed... I didn't mean to," he lied, hoping that Aslan would not judge him too harshly for the falsehood. "I'm afraid I've just been distracted... and selfish. I keep telling myself not to dwell on something that's so obviously impossible, but sometimes... I just can't help it."

Edmund nodded, a slight movement that was hardly visible in the darkness of the room, since it was lit only by the moonlight coming in through the window.

"The girls and I — and Mr. Tumnus — were hoping to cheer you up," he informed his brother, wanting to move on to brighter topics. "We were thinking of having a picnic, and maybe visit Archenland for a bit, and... and a bunch of other stuff."

Peter was touched to know that his siblings and friend were so concerned for his welfare.

"Thanks. That means a lot to me," he told him. Then before he could restrain himself, he had reached out to ruffle Edmund's hair — an affectionate gesture that he had not indulged in much as of late, fearing that it would lead to other, less innocent displays.

"Don't mention it," the younger king responded, in an unconsciously dignified tone. "We can talk more about it tomorrow. I think I can go to sleep now."

"All right. Goodnight, Ed."

"Goodnight, Pete."

As his brother retreated to his own room by means of the hallway, rather than the balcony, Peter let out a deep sigh and congratulated himself on weathering the encounter without causing any awkwardness. Truth be told, he had very nearly suggested to Edmund that he stay the night with him — in his large, royal bed — which he knew would not have ended well. Not that Edmund would have accepted such an outrageous invitation, of course.


	3. Picnic Prank

My Fair Brother

* * *

The girls lost no time in organising a picnic at a convenient clearing in the Great Wood, not far from the castle, and invited the woodland creatures of the area to join in the festivities. The morning dawned bright and full of promise, a lovely spring day with hints of the approaching summer, and they set out at an easy pace to the spot that some Hares had recommended, laden with baskets full of sandwiches, pies, and cakes.

Edmund had asked the Centaurs to bring some old horseshoes for a game of pitch, in which all but the smallest creatures participated, and Susan gave nosegays to those who played particularly well. Lucy suggested having three-legged races and got on famously with Mr. Tumnus, who — now that Lucy had grown several inches — was the perfect height to be her partner. Peter, however, asked a rather bashful Hedgehog to be his partner, since the young creature (his name was Pricklebriar) was rather awestruck by the royal children, having met them for the first time. Of course Talking Hedgehogs are much larger than the common ones found in our world, but even so, he only came to Peter's knee, and the Dwarfs had to use a clever trick to tie them together. They were so unevenly matched that it took them twice as long to finish as any of the other pairs, but all of the onlookers shouted encouragements, and Peter was so cheerful with Pricklebriar that the Hedgehog enjoyed himself immensely, and talked for years afterwards of how he had run a race with the High King himself. And Peter's siblings were delighted to see their brother laughing and joking like he hadn't done for quite some time.

The best part of the picnic was when they all sat down on blankets (or on the grass, if they preferred) and passed around the puddings and roast potatoes and flagons of light, fruity wines, chatting merrily as they ate as much as they wanted, while the Trees stood by eating loam. And afterwards, when they had washed up at a little creek, some started to tell stories of Narnia from before the White Witch, while others stretched out for a little nap, and the voices of the storytellers wove their way into the dreams of the nappers, and honeybees droned busily around the flowering shrubs and trees.

Peter threw himself on the ground next to Susan, who had befriended some baby Rabbits and had them in a heap on her skirts. With Mrs. Rabbit's permission, she passed a kit each to Lucy and Peter, and they marveled at the softness of the tiny creatures' fur and stroked them gently until the kits fell asleep in their hands. Edmund had taken off to explore the area, and his brother might have felt anxious for him except that two Panthers and a small Bear had gone with him. So Peter settled down to listen to an Oak Dryad reciting a poem about the wedding of the River-god's daughter. That is, he fully intended to listen to the story, but his head began to droop and his eyelids grew so heavy that before he knew it, he had nodded off.

#

He awoke to the sound of Lucy's muffled giggles and smiled even in his semi-conscious state.

"What's so funny, Lu?" he asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

Lucy giggled again, more loudly this time, and he heard Susan mutter, "Oh, Edmund!" in a slightly exasperated yet amused voice. He opened his eyes at the mention of his brother's name, and was rewarded to find Edmund's beautiful brown eyes peering into his own. They sparkled with mischief as he attempted to suppress a giggle (in vain) as well.

"What? What're you all laughing about?" Peter asked again, still groggy but with the presence of mind to get up slowly so as to not startle the sleeping Rabbits. His youngest two siblings, however, burst into full-blown laughter.

"Here, Peter," Susan said, handing him her little silver mirror (a beautifully crafted piece with lilies on the back, a gift from some Red Dwarfs the previous Christmas) which she always kept in a pocket of her dress. He took the mirror wordlessly and was startled to see his own reflection adorned with a purple-black handlebar mustache as well as a pince-nez. It only took a moment for him to realise what had happened, and he was on his feet in a flash, chasing his brother across the clearing and then into the woods.

It was a well-matched chase: Edmund was lighter and more nimble, which allowed him to weave through the underbrush more easily than Peter, but he was also out of breath from laughing. Peter was heavier and slower, but had more stamina. It was a mad dash as Edmund ran through the forest, not caring which direction he took and leading them through briars and bracken and at one point a bog. But finally, with a kingly roar and a tackle worthy of an Oxford rugby player, Peter caught Edmund by the waist and wrestled him to the ground. They tussled for a few minutes before Edmund lay pinned on his back, unable to move under his older brother's weight, but also laughing helplessly as Peter scowled at him with the dark scribblings still on his face.

Of course Peter was not truly angry with his brother, and had merely given chase because it was expected of him. It wouldn't have been sporting of him to **not** pursue the younger boy and at least threaten to thrash him within an inch of his life. So when he found himself looking down on the face that — to his mind, at least — was the most beautiful in the world, in both worlds, perhaps in all the worlds that ever existed, and saw his brother laughing heartily, he could not help but join in. Remembering the image he had seen in the mirror, he demanded, "By Jove, Ed! What did you **use?**"

"Found some... berries," Edmund gasped, breathless. "Brought some back, but... you were sleeping... Couldn't help myself!"

Peter still had his brother pinned to the ground, straddling him, and was struck with the sudden urge to lean down and kiss his lips, now a lovely shade of coral from running. His pale cheeks were also flushed from his exertions, rivaling those of Queen Susan or any other beautiful lady at court. Peter nearly lost his head and gave in to his desires, leaning down towards those slightly parted lips, but at the last moment he diverted his face to rub it against Edmund's as if to transfer the stains that his brother had impishly drawn on him.

"Aigh! Augh! Peter! Stop!" Edmund protested, half laughing but also half alarmed at the sudden and intimate contact.

"I should give you such a thrashing," Peter growled with mock ferocity, "for impugning my royal dignity! 'Tis hardly seemly for a king of Narnia to behave in such a childish and... irreverent manner!"

Since Peter was sliding his upper lip against Edmund's cheek, his words came out slightly garbled, but that was the least of the younger boy's concerns.

"Hi! Help! Peter, you're scratching me!" he cried, struggling to push his brother off of him.

"What? Oh, sorry," Peter responded, immediately pulling back and running one hand over his chin. "I didn't bother to shave this morning since we were getting ready to leave..."

"You have a beard?" Edmund said in amazement, reaching up to touch his brother's face.

"Just a few whiskers is all," Peter admitted, feeling a thrill travel along his spine as Edmund's fingers stroked his blonde stubble. "It's not a proper beard yet, you know..."

"I say," the younger boy breathed in awe, "what does it feel like? Can you tell changes in the weather like the Badgers can?"

"Of course not! It's just... well, it's like any other hair — it's just **there**. You don't notice it much yourself," Peter answered self-consciously. The gentle touch of his brother's hand had awakened his base desires, and their closeness only made things worse. He disentangled himself from his brother's supine form to sit back on his haunches, allowing Edmund to sit up and brush the dirt from his clothes. Peter could not take his eyes off of Edmund's slim hands as they moved over his forest-green tunic, but recovered himself before his brother could notice his intense gaze.

"We should head back before the others start to worry about us," he said, standing up and brushing off his own clothes, glad that his tunic was cut large enough to hide the evidence of his helpless impropriety. "But I should like to wash off this mess first."

Edmund nodded in agreement, somewhat abashed, and followed his elder brother through the woods in companionable silence. Their tracks were easy to follow back since they had crashed pell-mell through the underbrush, and soon they could hear the sounds of the picnic, where Susan had persuaded the Centaurs to pose riddles to the rest of their party.

"Go on, I'll be there in a minute," Peter said, turning aside towards the trickling stream.

"Wait, I'll help you," Edmund offered, pointing out, "You won't know if you got it all without a mirror."

Seeing the sense in that, Peter led the way down to the water where he dipped his handkerchief and proceeded to dab at his face where he had seen the marks.

"Did I get it?" he asked, but Edmund frowned.

"It's not coming off," the younger king told him, stepping nearer to look more closely. "Here, let me have a go."

Peter let him take the handkerchief and patiently bore his rough scrubbing.

"You're too tall for me to reach," Edmund complained once. "Sit down on that log so I can get at it better."

While Peter complied, Edmund wet the handkerchief again and resumed his ministrations. Peter grew more alarmed as his brother's frown deepened.

"What is it? Won't it come off?" he asked anxiously.

"Well... the black stuff has come off, but it's stained your skin purple underneath it," Edmund informed him. "I'm awfully sorry, Peter... I don't think it will wash off. I wish I'd never thought of such a prank..."

Edmund bit his lip in chagrin, and although Peter was embarrassed at the thought of spending the rest of the day — perhaps the next few days, even — with the silly marks on his face, the crestfallen look on his beloved brother's face bothered him more.

"Don't worry, Ed," he said. "I'm sure it'll wear off in a day or two."

Edmund looked somewhat relieved as he asked, just to make sure, "You're not mad at me?"

Peter shook his head. "No. I mean, I wish you had left off with just a mustache or so, but I know you weren't trying to leave a permanent mark. It was just a prank that got a little out of hand. Actually, a pretty funny one—"

He broke off as Edmund grabbed him about the neck and squeezed him with genuine gratitude, taking advantage of the fact that he was sitting down.

"Thanks, Peter," he whispered in his ear. "You're a brick! And I promise I'll never pull a stupid stunt like that again as long as I live!"

Peter could not stop himself from wrapping his arms around Edmund, pulling him even closer — holding him so tightly, in fact, that he winded his slender brother.

"It's all right," he murmured back. "I could never be mad at you, Ed... not really. You're my **brother**, after all... my only brother..."

He was reminding himself of that as well, sensing strong, carnal lust rising within his body again, but unable to stop hugging the one who tested the limits of his self-restraint.

"Ow, Pete! Let go," Edmund managed, then drew in great draughts of air as his brother hastily released his stranglehold.

"Sorry... I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," Edmund laughed. "It'd take more than a bear hug to hurt me! But I do wish we could get that stain off of your face... Maybe some soap will do the trick."

"Maybe," Peter replied without much hope, but suddenly Edmund cried out.

"Oh! I have it! I think I can get it off!"

"What? How?" Peter asked, startled to see his brother place a corner of the handkerchief into his mouth.

"The berries — they stained my fingers when I was picking them, too," he explained, removing the handkerchief and using that corner to scrub Peter's cheek again. "But they came clean when I licked them! If we use spit, maybe it'll come off..."

Peter saw that the reddish-purple stain was transferring on to the handkerchief.

"It's working!" the younger king said excitedly, then stuck another corner into his mouth.

"So you're going to clean my face with **spit?**" Peter said, beginning to laugh. "By Jove! Wait till the girls hear about **this**..."

But he soon had to leave off talking, since Edmund began to work on the mustache in earnest, and then on the spectacles that he had drawn around his older brother's eyes.

"If I'd known how much work it would be to get it **off**," he grumbled, mostly to himself, "I wouldn't have put it **on** in the first place!"

Peter mumbled something in assent, but was distracted by having Edmund's slim waist between his hands. He had placed his hands on his brother's hips to support him while he worked on his face, but in truth Peter had dreamed of doing so for many months. Now he reveled in feeling every movement, every shift in position, as Edmund bent over him with intense concentration. His face felt as though it were being rubbed raw, but he was more troubled by a growing pain much lower in his anatomy which, to his shame, grew ever stronger as Edmund continued to wipe at his skin, using his own saliva as a solvent. It was both torturous and exquisite at the same time.

"Great Scott!" Edmund exclaimed in frustration as he worked on Peter's brow. "It's really thick here — I must've slathered it on. Hold on—"

And so saying, he bent his face to Peter's and daubed some drool directly on to it with his tongue. And Peter, unable to move or avoid what his brother was doing, was unmanned. His grip on Edmund's waist tightened as his body trembled uncontrollably and he gasped aloud.

"What? What is it?" his younger brother demanded, knowing only that he had been squeezed in a vice-like grip.

"Nothing. I... You just startled me," Peter replied, panting for breath and far redder in the face than even Edmund's scrubbing warranted. "Are you... about done?"

"Almost. There's just this little bit here," Edmund answered, distracted by the task at hand. While Peter tried desperately to regain his composure, Edmund succeeded in removing the last traces of the berry's ink, and after Peter splashed his face with the cold water of the creek again, both kings rejoined the picnic party.

The High King was exhausted for the rest of the day, but his siblings and friends attributed it to his having chased Edmund for so long in the woods.


	4. Reminiscences of the Sun King

My Fair Brother

* * *

That night King Edmund hung his brother's handkerchief to dry before the fireplace in his bedroom. The small square of cloth was a brilliant purple in many places, and although the Raccoons who did the royal laundry assured him that they could get the stains out, he politely declined.

"I'm keeping this as a reminder," he told his surprised subjects, "that a little foolishness may cause more mischief than one bargained for. It would have been awful if the High King had to go about his business for days with those marks on his face!"

The Raccoons nodded in agreement, although chuckling that it had been glorious to see the two young kings having such sport.

"Especially his highness, King Peter," said one kindly old Raccoon, Mrs. Dumplesugar. "We haven't seen him laugh so hard all winter! Eh, you did a good thing for him, you did, King Edmund. Nothing like a good romp to take the cares of the Crown off your blessed brother's head. He has worries enough for his tender years — not that he doesn't bear them like a true Man, of course, but every so often he must want some amusement to ease his mind, I'm sure."

Her words echoed in Edmund's thoughts later as he lay in bed, recalling the events of the day. It was true that Peter had laughed and smiled more like his old self than he had in months, but Edmund had also noticed significant changes in his brother. He had watched Peter grow up from an ordinary boy into a responsible youth practically overnight when they had first come to Narnia (although he had missed Peter's first battle with the Wolf, having been with the White Witch at the time), and then in the ensuing months the oldest Pevensie had very quickly grown into a king — a hard task even for a man twice his age. And he was not just any king, but the High King of Narnia, a land with diverse creatures as his subjects, which also happened to be in the process of stamping out the evil hordes of the White Witch. Edmund greatly admired the courage with which Peter led their troops into battle, as well as the judicious manner in which he settled disputes among his subjects and negotiated with emissaries of foreign nations, and had realised long since that his brother was not only a **good** king, but a **great** one. He was, in fact, justifiably proud to be King Peter's brother.

However, the change that Edmund had noted today was of a more personal nature. Despite being a fair and reasonable monarch, Peter was still (in their private moments) just his older brother, and could lose patience with his siblings as easily as any other young man put in charge of three (sometimes trying) younger children. He had been exasperated by Edmund's antics often enough before they had come to Narnia. But today, in spite of the childish prank that Edmund had pulled on him and the near-disastrous results thereof, he had not so much as groused about the situation, but had graciously accepted his brother's apology. Even when Edmund had scrubbed hard to clean his face, Peter had not breathed a word of complaint.

Edmund turned in his bed, remembering how flushed his brother had been — no doubt from all of the rigorous scrubbing — with a deep pang of guilt. There was also an element of wistfulness, too, as he realised that Peter was growing up into a "true Man" as Mrs. Dumplesugar had put it. Combined with the discovery that his brother had the beginnings of a beard, it made him feel as though the distance between them were growing greater, filling him with a sadness that he could not put into words. The whole business of Peter's being in love already made him seem more distant, and Edmund feared (irrationally, of course, but there it was nonetheless) that he would never be able to catch up to his older brother, as though he alone would be left behind in childhood forever.

What the younger king failed to recognise, of course, were the changes in his own person. Edmund had arrived in Narnia as a rather selfish and self-centered boy who had allowed the worst of his nature to come to the surface — largely due to the influences of his friends at school the previous year. Meeting with Aslan had changed all of that; indeed, since his encounter with the White Witch, he would forever after be more circumspect in how he chose his friends. And having been duped once by honeyed words (although, it must be owned, with a good deal of magic as well), he was cautious of those whose flattery seemed contrived or insincere. King Peter had learned to trust in his brother's judgment when dealing with foreign ambassadors, for King Edmund seemed to have an instinct for knowing when a man's word rang false.

Edmund had also proven to be an excellent student of Logic and Reason, which several of the wisest Centaurs, at the High King's request, came to Cair Paravel to teach the royal children. They all studied History, Geography, Astronomy, and the like under the tutelage of the sage Centaurs, but the younger king, despite their difference in years, had kept pace with his older brother in subjects pertaining to Reason — a fact that, as King Peter demurely remarked, would no doubt please the old Professor back in England. In Dialectics, King Edmund was so artful in presenting both sides of the argument that he could hash out a debate by himself and come to a reasonable and impartial conclusion. The High King now never made decisions of state without first asking for, and carefully considering, his brother's opinion.

Edmund had not only grown in wisdom and understanding, but also in stature over the past few years. He had been a mere boy (and a rather small one at that) when Aslan had crowned them all kings and queens. Since then he had shot up quite rapidly, and if Peter had not grown at a fair pace as well, Edmund might have caught up with his older brother. As it was they were still separated by a few inches in height, but the gap was closing the older they grew. In a few years' time, Edmund would not need Peter to sit down in order to wipe his brow with ease.

However, where Peter had always been solidly built, Edmund grew lean and (to his mind) gangly. When the High King trained at sword-fighting in the courtyard, Edmund watched with brooding envy as his brother delivered powerful blows, wishing for similarly broad shoulders on his own narrow frame. He did not know that Peter, in turn, admired his younger brother's grace and agility, which made Edmund's training seem more like a dance. In truth, for a long time Peter had coveted Edmund's light-footedness, for when the Dryads and Hamadryads had taught them how to dance (as one must have balls, occasionally, at court), Peter had felt himself encumbered with two left feet, while Edmund had flitted nimbly about the hall. It would have surprised the younger king exceedingly to know that often, when Peter was staring off into space, he was actually daydreaming of dancing with his brother to the lilting tunes of the Fauns' reed pipes.

But tonight, it was Edmund who was haunted by Peter's visage, remembering with a heavy heart how harshly he had had to scrub to get the stain off of it. The patience and forbearance with which Peter had subjected himself to the cleaning made him seem all the more noble, regal, and majestic, and Edmund thought — as he had so often before — that Aslan could not have chosen a fitter Man to be High King. And Edmund was also certain (though he could hardly be expected to own it to anyone, let alone to Peter himself) that his brother was the most handsome Son of Adam in all of Narnia, and perhaps in all of the lands beyond.

In the darkness, Edmund remembered how radiantly Peter had laughed today, and could almost feel the warmth of the Sun's rays upon his body again; for somewhere deep in his mind, he had connected Peter (especially a smiling Peter) with bright sunlight and joy and gladness. He had heard the term "the Sun King" back in his school in England, when he had been studying our own world's History, but the monarch in the poorly-copied portrait of his textbook looked nothing like what a true Sun King ought, in Edmund's mind. But on that day when they had first come to Cair Paravel and Peter had been given his golden crown, Edmund had seen his brother's face filled with solemn joy and knew in that instant that here was a Sun King in every sense — one whose rule would benefit the land just as sunlight caused the plants to grow and flourish, and a Man in whom there was no guile nor darkness.

Edmund drew a deep breath and sighed. He had always known that Peter held no darkness in his soul, and he was still certain that there was no deceit nor malice in his brother's heart. However, the sadness there had cast a pall over the luster of his reign, and as his fellow king as well as his brother, Edmund could not help but wish that the object of the High King's love would choose to return it, so that all would be well in the world — and Peter would smile and laugh as he used to do.

###

In the next room, Peter was wishing much the same thing, although chiding himself for being unable to relinquish his hopeless dreams. Daydreams, that is, even though the fair beauty of his brother pervaded the dreams of his slumber as well. Tonight he was more troubled than ever before, since every time he closed his eyes, he could feel Edmund's fingers upon his face, and the warm wetness of his tongue in that brief moment that it had touched his brow. Peter clenched his hands until his nails dug painfully into his palms, trying to forget the smooth expanse of tender skin that he had felt through his brother's tunic as he had held him, but all in vain. He sighed and got up, pulling on his dressing gown as he walked out to the balcony in his bare feet. Sleep would not come easily tonight, he knew.

The marble floor was not as cold as it had been only weeks before, and Peter noted it as a harbinger of summer in the back of his exhausted mind. He needed the wind to be cold and biting now, but all was still, allowing him to clearly hear the waves crashing on to the shore far below. He was disturbed by how eagerly, even hungrily, his body had yearned for his oblivious brother. The High King knew that his unholy lust was thrice condemned: first, because it was for one of his own sex; second, because it was for one of his own family; and third, because it was for one who was not yet fully matured as a Man.

#

Not fully grown, but not still a child, either. It had been less than a year since the beginning of their reign when, one morning, Edmund did not come to the breakfast table, claiming to be ill. He had asked Peter through Mr. Tumnus to visit him at his earliest convenience, and Peter (who had guessed as to the true nature of his brother's illness) had swallowed his eggs and toast in haste and hurried back to the royal quarters. His knock was answered immediately by Edmund's tremulous voice, and upon entering he saw his younger brother's pale face drawn in worry, his eyes red-rimmed. Peter sat next to him and placed an arm around his shoulders at once.

"I'm sorry, Ed," he began, "I should have realised that... well, since Father isn't with us, I should have talked to you about... this sort of thing, before it actually happened. But first off, you should know that it's completely natural, and nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it's proof that you're growing older — that you're that much closer to being a man."

After explaining the functions of the human anatomy (almost word-for-word what their father had told him, several years prior) and assuring his distressed brother that the same thing happened to him, too, Peter finally coaxed him into slipping out from under the blankets, and brought over the chamber-pot.

"But I... I don't know **how**," Edmund wailed, distraught and somewhat overwrought by the changes in his body. "And it... it **hurts**."

"The sooner you get it over with, the sooner it will stop hurting," Peter told him, trying to remember how their father had instructed him. However, since their father had spoken to Peter before he had left for the War — in anticipation of his eldest son's physical development during his absence — the situation was not quite the same. Edmund flushed scarlet as he bared himself, then touched the offending member tentatively, but quickly withdrew his hand.

"I can't. I just... I don't know how," he moaned. "Won't you help me? Please, Peter?"

Faced with such a desperate plea, Peter could not refuse.

"All right, then, I'll sit here and you can stand in front of me. You'll have to aim it yourself, though, since I can't jolly well see around you. Ready? Lean against me if you need to steady yourself. All right. Here goes, then..."

And continuing to speak as soothingly as he knew how, he had grasped his brother's manhood in his calloused hand and gently fondled it the way he would his own. Edmund gasped in surprise as the pleasure outstripped the pain, clutching his brother's shoulder with one hand while trying to remember to point his tip towards the chamber-pot with the other. He **did** need to lean against Peter's broad chest, panting and moaning, as Peter's hand moved ever more quickly and led him to the brink. Edmund cried out as his seed spattered, uncontrolled, across the floor (entirely missing the chamber-pot), then he collapsed against his brother like a Horse that had been galloped for far too long.

"Are you all right?" Peter asked, catching him and setting him down on one knee.

"I... Oh, Peter... That was... Wow!" he gasped incoherently.

"I know," his older brother chuckled. "But it's better now, right?"

"Oh, yeah!" Edmund agreed with enthusiasm. Then he twisted round to fling his arms about Peter's neck. "Thanks," was all he mumbled into his shoulder, but Peter understood.

"You're on your own, now, though," he warned. "Do you think you can handle it?"

Edmund blushed a bright crimson as he nodded. "Yeah. I've got it sorted now!"

#

It was about that time that Peter had begun to notice how beautiful his brother was becoming. And now, two years later, he was faced with the same embarrassing problem as his brother had then, just from remembering how lovely Edmund had looked when he had pinned him to the ground that morning. Returning to his room, he relieved himself while his imagination ran wild, chasing Edmund through the woods like a hunter would its prey until he had caught, conquered, and ravished him.


	5. Stormy Weather

My Fair Brother

* * *

A few days later, a spring storm hit the coasts of Narnia (just like Queen Susan had been worried about) and the royal children were very glad to not be at sea. They had seen the clouds on the eastern horizon at dawn and sent home all those who lived in the Great Forest so they could ready their burrows, caves, and nests for the onslaught. Since they were not expected to hold court on a day like this, and since most of the castle workers were gone, they stayed in their private sitting room, playing chess in front of the fire or reading, and occasionally remarking on the progress of the storm as it advanced upon the shore.

"I do hope Mr. Tumnus has made it home by now," Lucy said, watching the wind buffet the tree branches about.

"He can't be there yet, Lu," Peter reminded her. "Arismenos was taking him almost to Beaversdam, but even a Unicorn can't get there in half a day. I'm sure he'll reach home before the storm does, though."

The High King had lost two straight games of chess due to his own inattention and had given up pretending to mind, opting instead to drag a comfortable wing-backed chair and an ottoman near the French doors that opened on to the balcony. From there he had an unobstructed view of the sea and the storm, and he had sunk deeper into the chair as he had watched the fury of the wind whipping the waves into foamy crests.

Edmund cast glances in his brother's direction from time to time, pretending to be watching the storm roll in as well. However, his furtive looks had been engendered by a sudden epiphany: that Peter was gazing at the sea for a glimpse of **her** — the Mermaid who had stolen his heart. And really, when one thought of it, wasn't Peter always looking towards the Great Eastern Ocean? When he was gazing off into space, wasn't it usually towards the sea, where **she** lived? The younger king's heart ached with sadness at the thought, and he wished to share it with his sisters out of their brother's hearing, but dared not attempt it while Peter was in the room and, for the most part, awake.

Even though the High King's eyes were half-closed, though, Edmund made another discovery — or rather, had a realisation: that Peter's eyes were the same colour as the sea. If the Sun were shining, they would be bright blue; if it were cloudy and stormy like today, a dark, slate grey; and if the weather were somewhere between those two extremes, a greenish-blue, depending on how close the water (or his eyes) were to the forest. It made Edmund wonder if Peter might have some affinity with the ocean — perhaps even a magical connection — that had drawn him to the maiden who lived in its depths. He did not remember the exact outcome of the story of The Little Mermaid in our world, who had fallen in love with a prince (rather than the other way round), but he was pretty sure that it had ended badly.

He pondered if perhaps there might not be some magic in Narnia, however, that would allow a Mermaid to become a Human and live with her prince happily ever after. Or instead, would the prince be turned into a Merman to live with her under the waters? Would Peter choose to live that way, if it were possible? Would he prefer being with the beautiful Mermaid over reigning Narnia with his siblings? Somehow, the mere question made Edmund feel despondent, although he had no proof that Peter would choose his supposed love over his family or his duty.

Being so distracted, Edmund was soundly beaten by Lucy who, though herself distracted by thoughts of Mr. Tumnus and her other friends who were away from the castle, still managed to be more attentive to playing chess than either of her brothers. When their game was over, Edmund walked over to the doors for a better view of the ocean. The many small windowpanes were spattered with water now, as the first of the black clouds had hit the shore and begun pelting the landscape with rain. Peter regarded his brother's form, silhouetted against the windows, with aesthetic appreciation through his half-closed lids. The poise with which Edmund un-self-consciously stood there was sufficient to take Peter's breath away.

"More lightning," Edmund announced with a glum face to the room in general. "It's getting closer, too."

"I remember when you used to be scared of lightning," Peter commented from deep within his chair. "Susan, too."

"I'm not scared of lightning," Edmund protested indignantly, turning to him with a half-scowl.

"You were only a baby," Peter amended, not having intended to offend him. "In fact, it was right after Lucy was born. I remember hearing you crying in the nursery, poor girl, but at least you were with Mother. Ed, you had just been moved into my room — **our** room — a few weeks before to make way for Lu."

While Peter was speaking, his youngest sister had come over to perch on his lap, as was her birthright, and even Susan gave up her embroidering (since the light had become bad, anyway) to pull her chair closer to Peter's. Edmund stayed standing by the window, but his frown had been replaced by a look of intense curiosity.

"We woke up at the first big crack of thunder," Peter went on, addressing his brother, "and you just stared at me across the room with those huge eyes of yours. You were too startled to even cry, I think, and of course you had no way of knowing what all the noise and lights were about. I kept talking to you, saying everything was all right, even though I was frightened to death myself!"

Lucy giggled at the thought of her eldest brother being frightened of anything, but just then a loud clap shook the windows and everyone jumped. Susan laughed nervously and confessed, "I **still** don't like them, even though I know what they are."

Peter nodded, pulling Lucy closer to his chest, where she nestled against him.

"You came into our room after the second or third big one," he told Susan. "You were trying to be brave and not go to Mother, because you knew she was with the baby, but you were too scared to be in your room all alone. Once you came over, we both crawled into Ed's bed and pretended to be comforting him, when we wanted just as much to be near somebody, too."

"I don't remember any of that," Edmund admitted. "We must've been crowded in there!"

Susan laughed again, more relaxed this time. "Oh, no, we all fit just fine — we were that little! You had only been walking for a few months, I think, when Lu came along, and Peter was younger than Lu is now."

The older two continued reminiscing as the storm grew in fury, and when the noise of the thunderclaps became so loud and so frequent as to make conversation impossible, they all simply watched the storm rage outside. Edmund came to sit on the floor between the two chairs, resting his chin on the low armrest of Peter's chair, and Peter itched to reach out and stroke his brother's hair. Lucy shifted in his arms a few minutes later, freeing up his hand that was closer to Edmund, and after arguing with himself whether he should do it or not, Peter decided that if his gesture were unwelcome, Edmund would move away. When the eldest Pevensie finally screwed up the courage to lay his hand on his brother's head, he was rewarded by not getting it shaken off. He stroked Edmund's hair very slowly and gently, hoping that he was conveying nothing but brotherly love, just like the affection which he naturally felt towards Lucy and Susan.

Edmund did not mind it in the least; in fact, he had something of a fetish (though he did not know it in those terms) for his brother's hands. Ever since that day when the first stirrings of manhood had awoken within him — when Peter had helped him achieve his first release — his older brother's large, calloused hands were a point of particular interest for the younger boy. He knew that they were rough from so much training with the sword, spear, and other implements of war, as well as from using farm tools in the palace vegetable gardens. Edmund helped out there with a good will, too, hoping that his own hands would soon grow as big. Even now it was with some envy that he saw Peter holding Lucy with his other hand, and he wondered what it must feel like for his sister to have her waist spanned like that. He knew, of course, how warm Peter's palms usually were, and could imagine the sensation.

Then he remembered the day of the picnic, when Peter had held him with both hands about his waist, supporting him as he had worked to undo his mischief. Had he not been so intent on his task, he might have derived more pleasure in feeling them placed so securely upon his person. As it was, he had leant against them freely, but had been startled when they had suddenly gripped him beyond the bounds of comfort. In fact he had been bruised there, in the exact shape of Peter's fingers, but not so much as to be sore except when he wore his sword belt for training the next day. Recalling what he had done to cause his brother to grasp him in such an iron grip, Edmund grinned — since the stain had come out in the end, it **had** been a good prank. And in hindsight, even the fact that he had had to clean Peter's face with spit seemed humourous.

Susan turned her eyes back from the sea and caught a glimpse of Edmund's sly smile, and was taken aback by the unusual tableau before her: that Lucy should be sitting on Peter's lap, curled up like a contented Cat, was expected; but that Edmund should smile like the proverbial Cheshire Cat upon getting his head petted by his brother was not. And yet as his smile faded, she realised that he must have been thinking of something amusing.

"Penny for your thoughts, Ed," she said, tucking her slippered feet up in her own chair.

"Hm? Oh... just wondering if we're becoming more like Beasts, since we have so many of them for friends," Edmund replied.

"How's that?" Peter asked, still gently combing his brother's hair with his fingers.

"Well, for one thing, I had to use spit to clean your face off," he replied, with a flash of his grin returning, "just like a Cat or a Dog."

"And here we all are, curled up like Cats, or huddled in our burrows like Rabbits," Susan smiled. "There may be some truth to that, Ed!"

"I think Rabbits live in warrens, Su," Peter put in mildly. "It's really a very clever setup, and a good way to stay warm."

"I think it's wonderful that we're turning into Beasts," Lucy piped up with a delighted smile. "They're such nice people!"

Everybody laughed at the incongruousness of that expression, then jumped as another lightning flash struck a tree not far from the castle.

"Oh, I hope that wasn't a Talking Tree," Lucy worried.

"I think those chaps would know how to step out of the way," Edmund pointed out. "They're really quite limber, you know."

"Haha," Peter laughed dryly. "I get it! 'Limb'-er? Good one, Ed!"

"I didn't even mean it that way," his brother admitted. "I guess I'm just naturally talented!"

Just then Mrs. Hoppinger, the Kangaroo, pushed a cart laden with tea things into the room, and the children all realised that they had become rather peckish, and rearranged themselves on the sofas. Peter sighed at having to relinquish his hold on his brother's soft hair, and Edmund also noted that his head felt colder now without Peter's hand upon it, but neither of them let on that they missed the contact, choosing rather to tuck in to their toast and crumpets.

###

Peter was drowsing in his chair again while the girls were playing chess (a rather better-played game than the previous ones) by the fire. Edmund had been trying to read a book — a dry collection of discourses on the existence and role of Father Christmas — by the light of some candles, but it was straining his eyes and boring to boot, so he gave it up and wandered over to the windows again. He thought Peter was asleep and sat down lightly on a corner of the ottoman by his feet.

"Bored?" his older brother asked in a murmur, so as to not startle him.

Edmund nodded, turning to look at him.

"We **could** play hide-and-seek," Peter said, his lips curving upward, "but who knows where **that** might lead!"

"And we mightn't get to be kings and queens there," Edmund agreed, returning his smile.

"Besides, I think I might win this game," Lucy called out from the other side of the room, where Susan was frowning over the chess board.

Peter straightened himself up in the chair, since he had slid down over the past hour, and made more room for his brother to sit at his feet. Edmund made himself comfortable and gazed out at the sea, now a roiling mass of black waves, then suddenly turned back to his brother, who was also looking out across the churning expanse. Peter's eyes were, he saw, nearly as dark. And he also saw a yearning and a wistfulness there — although he never suspected that the one on the forefront of his brother's mind was the one sitting closest to him in the room.

"I suppose... the Merfolk know how to weather storms all right, don't they?" Edmund began. Lucy and Susan's heads snapped up in alarm, and if they had been much closer, Susan would have pinched her younger brother for broaching such a sensitive subject.

"Oh, of course," Peter replied, unflustered. "They've lived beneath the sea for ages. They know how to take care of themselves, I'm sure."

Edmund regarded his brother thoughtfully and for so long that Peter sensed his gaze, and met it.

"She'll be all right, then... You don't have to worry about her being safe, right?" he asked.

"Who?" Peter asked in turn, then quickly recovered himself. "Oh! You mean... yes, of course," he answered. "Yes, I'm sure she'll be just fine."

But for some reason, his answer unsettled Edmund. Or rather, the manner in which he had answered did not ring true. However, Peter himself (knowing how perceptive his brother was) decided to try a diversionary tactic, and grabbed Edmund in an embrace to drag him back into the chair, making him sit on his lap as though he were their youngest sister.

"Hi! Hey!" Edmund yelped as he felt Peter's arms wrapping around him, as strong as steel but not uncomfortably tight.

"Since Queen Lucy is otherwise engaged," Peter said in a mock official tone, "your Majesty must serve in her place as the High King's royal Teddy Bear."

"Surely you jest," the younger king gasped, trying to wriggle out of his brother's clutches.

"Nay, my dear brother," Peter gravely replied, holding him even tighter and trying hard not to laugh. "You must stay here until the Queen's grace has finished her match with her royal sister."

"Hurry it up, Lu," Edmund grumbled, ceasing his struggles to lie back against his brother's chest.

"We're almost done," Lucy assured him, while Susan bit her lip, one hand poised to move her Knight.

Despite what he had said, Edmund was rather disappointed when Lucy won the match three moves later and came over to claim her rightful place on Peter's lap. He had been delightfully comfortable there, held snug by both of his brother's large hands, which left warm imprints on his body for a while afterward.


	6. Voyage to Archenland

My Fair Brother

* * *

When the storm had blown over and the Sun shone on Narnia again, the Dwarfs made short work of chopping the downed trees for lumber and firewood (none of them were Talking Trees, as Edmund had been correct in surmising that they could move out of most harm's way) and otherwise tidying up the Great Forest. The royal children helped where they could, cleaning in the vicinity of the castle, and were setting up bean poles in the vegetable garden when Mr. Tumnus arrived. Their court of assorted Beasts, Creatures, and Men (who were beginning to return to Narnia after the White Witch's defeat) slowly re-gathered at Cair Paravel, and soon Queen Susan was talking of a trip to Archenland.

The troop of Dwarfs also returned from the southern hills, having spent some time making sure that there were no Ettins or other foul creatures there, and aside from a Swamp Ghoul that they had captured and dispensed of, they had found no evidence of trouble. So King Peter authorised a letter to be sent to King Lune, requesting his hospitality for the space of a few days, and asked Meridian, captain of the _Splendor Hyaline_, to prepare the ship for her first voyage of the season.

"Oh!" Susan gasped upon hearing Peter's orders to the captain.

"What is it, Su?" Lucy whispered. They were standing a few paces away from their brothers.

"I had thought... well, that Peter wouldn't want to travel by sea, you know," she explained, "where he'd be reminded of **her**."

"Oh... I hadn't thought of that," Lucy said, rather morosely. "But... it's so much nicer to go to Archenland by sea, and quicker, too. And maybe... maybe he **wants** to be reminded of her."

"Yes. Or maybe he's hoping to **see** her," Susan added, with a sigh, "even if he knows... it's hopeless."

Lucy turned away to hide her tears, but she did not do so quickly enough, for Edmund noticed them. He approached her a few minutes later in the rose garden where she had retreated to weep.

"What is it, Lu? What's wrong?" he asked, concern creasing his brow.

"Oh, Edmund! It's just so sad, a—and **dreadful!**" she cried.

"What is?"

"Poor Peter! Here we are, going by sea," she sniffed, "and he's probably hoping to catch a g—glimpse of **her**."

Edmund understood her meaning at once, and patted her back.

"It's all right, Lu... I know it seems sad and all, but... you do realise, Peter is always looking out to sea, anyway."

Lucy's sob caught in her throat at his words.

"Y—You mean...?"

Edmund nodded. "I think he's always looking, hoping to find her out there, somewhere... Maybe it will make him feel better to see her, even if nothing can come of it."

Lucy pondered this for a moment before sighing, "I hope you're right. But it just seems to me like it would make things even worse."

However, as they made the preparations for their journey, their oldest brother seemed no more distracted or dismal than before, so while all three of his siblings watched over him attentively, they were relieved to find him handling the added burden so well.

###

The morning of their departure, the Sun rose in a near-cloudless sky, and it was with great exuberance that the crew of the _Splendor Hyaline_ hoisted the mainsail and (till they left the harbour) manned the oars. King Peter stood on the aft deck, observing with pleasure the smart manner in which the crew went about their business, and the Sun created a natural halo about his blonde hair as it was ruffled by the breeze. Edmund happened to glance up at his brother from the main deck and was impressed again, with the clear blue sky behind him, of how like a second Sun over Narnia the High King truly was. His eyes were a cobalt blue to match the sea today, and his serene face was dignified yet full of mirth. For a long moment, Edmund did not take his eyes off of his brother, burning that picture into his memory.

As the children regained their sea legs and flitted about the deck in excitement, Peter was also enraptured by the sight of Edmund clambering dexterously up the rigging to the crow's nest, and watched in delight as his younger brother slid down the cordage to the deck again.

"You're going to burn your hands if you're not careful," Susan cautioned.

Edmund rolled his eyes. "I think I know how to handle myself, **Mum**," he said, causing his older sister to chase after him, and he took off down the hatch where she could not follow as easily with her skirts. Peter laughed and looked out at the sea, leaning against the port side of the ship, where Lucy joined him shortly.

"Peter," she called as she drew near him, and he turned his most brilliant smile on her. Rejoicing to see him so happy, she flung her arms about him and looked out over the deep blue waters. However, the waves reminded her of the cause of his recent melancholy, and despite being wrapped in his warm embrace, she trembled.

"Lu?" he asked, noting the change in her. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with worry.

"Peter... are you still very sad?" she ventured.

"Sad? Why?" Peter rejoined, then realised what his sister was getting at. "Oh, Lu... don't bother about that anymore... Nothing will ever come of it, I know, and it's high time I got over it." He bent down to press a tender kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry to make you worry over me, but I'm sure it will pass soon..."

She hugged her brother tightly and wished with all her might that it would be so.

###

Late that night, after the two queens had gone to bed in their cabin, the _Splendor Hyaline_ weighed anchor in a bay just north of the mouth of the Winding Arrow River. From there it was an easy day's journey on foot to Anvard, the capital of Archenland. The High King was loath to visit King Lune with a great company, so he had decided not to have the Centaurs and Minotaurs come on this trip, and the only retainers that would accompany them to Anvard were Mr. Tumnus, two Dwarfs, and Mrs. Dumplesugar the Raccoon. Their luggage would be carried by a non-talking donkey.

Edmund had insisted on staying up until the ship reached the bay, watching the crew in fascination although he yawned quite frequently, to Peter's amusement. When all the work came to an end and the sailors headed below decks to their hammocks, Edmund gladly made his way to the cabin he shared with Peter, but his older brother stayed up on the aft deck and gazed at the crescent moon as it rose over the sea.

"Is there anything the matter, your Majesty?" Captain Meridian asked, having finished inspecting the boat for its readiness to take the royal entourage on shore the next morning.

"Nothing, Captain," Peter answered with a forced smile. "Everything seems to be in good order. Goodnight, sir."

If it had not been for the wan moonlight, the captain might have noticed something amiss, but being also tired from the day's journey, he accepted the High King's words and retired to his own cabin. Peter continued to sit there, contemplating the moon and wondering if he would ever truly be cured of his unnatural obsession with his brother.

"Oh, Aslan... why did he have to be so beautiful?" he whispered to the clear night sky.

Finally, he rose and tiptoed his way down the steep stairs under the hatch to his cabin, where Edmund lay sleeping in the bunk above his own. He could not help stopping to admire the younger boy's fine features in the candlelight. The small flame warmed his brother's delicate face with a golden glow, and his lashes seemed even darker from the shadows that they cast. His breathing had slowed considerably, attesting that he was in the deepest halls of sleep, and as though drawn by magic, Peter stepped closer. Edmund's lips were parted invitingly, even enticingly, and Peter's restraint wavered for a moment — a moment of weakness in which he pressed his own lips to his brother's. The softness that he found there made the worst of his base desires arise within him.

"Mmm..." Edmund moaned, stirring and turning away, and Peter was left to hastily change into his nightshirt and slip into his own bunk, his cheeks (even in the darkness) burning with shame. Though he soon fell asleep, it was only fitfully, for he wandered through feverish dreams in which his beloved brother was always just out of reach.

###

The next day was as bright with promise as the first, but Susan noticed the dark shadows under Peter's eyes. She made no mention of it, and while they walked through the dense forest at the foothills of the mountains, none other of their party seemed to mark it. But when they stopped in midmorning for a break, Edmund sidled up to her with a significant look.

"He's not sleeping well, I don't think," he began without preamble. "I've heard him out on the balcony late at night, back at Cair, and he didn't come down to the cabin right away last night, either."

"I do wish he hadn't decided to travel by sea," Susan murmured, watching as Lucy sat on their eldest brother's knee to share a flagon of lemonade. "He's just torturing himself by pretending that nothing's wrong..."

"Maybe," Edmund agreed, with a worried glance. But right then Peter was smiling, snatching a drink and listening to his little sister prattling about their friends in Anvard to Mrs. Dumplesugar (who had never been to Archenland before), so they set aside their concerns for the time being.

###

One of the reasons the kings and queens of Narnia so enjoyed visiting Archenland was that King Lune and his wife, Queen Primela, had a wonderfully rambunctious son, Prince Corin. They had actually had another son, Corin's twin brother Cor, but he had been kidnapped by a wicked traitor and lost at sea. Queen Primela had been inconsolable, and King Lune no less devastated, but they both claimed that their spirits lifted to have their young royal neighbours visit them, and so the four Pevensies were glad to leave their home behind for brief periods to enjoy a change of scenery.

No sooner had the heralds at the gate of Anvard announced their arrival than little Prince Corin came running to meet them, as fast as his short legs could carry him. The truth was that he had been caught in some mischief — stealing honey from the tea table set out to welcome their guests — and was hoping to escape punishment by fleeing into his friends' arms. But while Queen Susan picked him up and hugged him fondly, sticky fingers and all, she was quite firm in returning him to his exasperated Nurse. Queen Lucy tried to talk some sense into him, and King Edmund tickled his chin to put him in a good humour, but in the end he had to be carried off, howling, to be given his second bath of the day.

King Lune greeted them warmly, embracing them and remarking how much they had grown (especially Edmund) in the several months that they had not seen each other, and the Queen also clasped hands with Susan and Lucy, delighted to see her young friends again. When all the necessary introductions had been made (Mrs. Dumplesugar no less welcome than anyone else, for Archenland was populated mostly by Humans and it was a rare treat to have a Talking Beast visit Anvard), King Peter had the Dwarfs present their host and hostess with gifts — finely-crafted armour and a silver tankard covered with Narnian scenes for the King, a set of mirrors and hairbrushes for the Queen, and a very small wooden sword and shield set (made to last and with the royal crest of Archenland emblazoned on them) for Prince Corin, with promises from both the kings of Narnia to play with him to his heart's content.

Their high tea turned into a splendid welcoming feast as the Sun set over the western mountains, and Mr. Tumnus was requested to play some Narnian dances on his pipe. It was a merry sight to see him piping and stepping in time to the music with Queen Lucy as his partner, and the bravest of the courtiers begged Queen Susan for a dance as well. King Lune clapped his hands and turned to the two brothers.

"Come now, my dear lads! Surely there must be some pretty young ladies in our court who could tempt you to dance as well? They have all been in a dither since they heard of your coming."

Peter blushed but managed to keep his composure.

"Sir, my brother is the better dancer — perhaps he might be persuaded to entertain your lovely ladies."

Edmund threw him a horrified look, which made King Lune laugh heartily.

"Well then, King Edmund! Let me show you the choicest flowers of my realm," he crowed, dragging him off to meet a group of girls who had been ogling and whispering amongst themselves about the two handsome young kings. Edmund was soon paired with a fetching red-haired girl with freckles, who was also somewhat shy, but after a turn around the courtyard they were laughing and chatting like old friends. Peter watched them with a smile affixed upon his face, even though his heart ached as though it had been rent in two.

King Lune came back with another young lady on his arm — Verinia, the beautiful blonde daughter of a nobleman, and a close friend of Susan and Lucy from their previous visits. Peter stood up in deference to the lady as they approached.

"Of your courtesy, Lady Verinia, you must help me make the High King welcome," King Lune told her with an exaggerated wink. "His majesty claims to be less of a dancer than his light-footed brother, so we must attempt to keep him happily occupied here. Unless, of course, you might persuade him to join his siblings with your charms."

"Your Highness is as intractable as Prince Corin," she demurely objected. "Perhaps his majesty is tired from the day's travels."

Peter bowed courteously before pulling out a chair for her.

"Indeed I must admit, I do not travel as well as heretofore," he said as she sat down, "but your presence makes me forget my weariness. And the company of such great friends as we always find here is a balm to soothe any aching feet — or hoofs, for that matter," he added, seeing Mr. Tumnus and Lucy swing by their table.

Lady Verinia had already noted (what King Lune had not) that Peter had dark circles under his eyes, and indeed looked weary, but thought it must have little to do with his travels since his sisters were dancing as though they had not journeyed on foot to the mountain castle that day. She also thought his eyes seemed dark with some hidden sadness, but tactfully did not mention it, turning their conversation to the storm that had just passed through both lands and the delights of traveling by sea.

Queen Primela joined them with Prince Corin in her arms (to prevent him from running out amongst the dancers) and, seeing her struggling with her little son, Peter offered to hold him in her stead, and talked to the boy so seriously and earnestly of how they would play all day on the morrow that he soon forgot his disappointment at being kept out of the dancing. King Lune showed him the sword and shield that his friends had brought for him, which of course he wanted to hold, and Peter (still keeping the wriggling boy on his lap) instructed him on how to hold the sword and bear the shield — without trying to lop off his own father's hand, much to the ladies' relief.

"Sooth, my dear King Peter," King Lune declared, "you shall make a great father someday!"

Peter could only blush and stammer his thanks, while Corin bounced on his knee, eager to go to war.


	7. Per's Story

My Fair Brother

* * *

When the festivities came to an end that night (long after Prince Corin had been sent to bed, rubbing his eyes but still protesting loudly), the Narnians were shown to the rooms prepared for them. Knowing that the mountain stronghold was not used to accommodating many guests, Peter had made it plain in his letter to King Lune that they needed only three rooms: one for "the girls," including Mrs. Dumplesugar (who was quite comfortable in a large basket with a cushion); one for the Dwarfs and Mr. Tumnus; and one for Edmund and himself. Privately, Peter had offered Mr. Tumnus the choice of staying in their room, should the Dwarfs' snoring be too loud, but the Faun had politely declined.

Which left Peter in a rather tenuous situation: alone in a room with Edmund and, to make matters worse, with the offer of baths. They were, in fact, in desperate need of them, having traveled for two whole days — especially Edmund, who had been scampering about on the ship — so Peter graciously accepted the offer and prepared to be tortured by the sight of his brother's naked body, beautiful in every inch.

Their host had assigned a page, a boy of about Edmund's age by the name of Per, to help them wash. After insisting that Edmund go first, Peter retreated to a chair by the window and attempted to read a book. A large metal tub was set before the fireplace and filled with hot water, channeled into the castle by an aqueduct from the hot springs further up in the mountains, and Edmund sighed in pure bliss as he sank into its warmth. Peter tried desperately to keep his eyes glued to the book, even though he could not make any sense of it, but every so often they would wander against his will to where his brother's milk-white skin could be seen above the edges of the tub.

"It's no colder here than in Cair Paravel," the younger king was telling Per in response to a solicitous query. "It catches the wind off of the ocean, you know, so it gets pretty cold in the winter. Here you're more protected by the forest, even though you're higher up in the mountains. But I don't think any castle worth defending is going to be built for **comfort**, really. Wouldn't you say, Peter?"

Startled at being called into the conversation, Peter looked up in alarm.

"W—What's that? I wasn't listening..." he stammered, swallowing hard as he noticed Edmund's wet hair plastered to the graceful curve of his neck.

"I was saying, most castles are built to be defended, not comfortable," Edmund repeated. Per was using a cloth to wash his back for him, and Peter would have very much liked to switch places with the page boy just then.

"Oh... of course. Anvard is very defensible, being so high in the mountains, and since it has its own water supply, it won't fall easily to a siege, either. As long as there are plenty of food stores," he replied somewhat disjointedly.

"I think I'd still take Cair over Anvard, though — no offense," Edmund continued, addressing Per. "We can escape by sea if we're attacked by land, or vice versa. And the steps down to the shore have a lot of turns so they can be used as traps if need be. Not to mention all the secret tunnels that the Dwarfs have carved out of the rock over the years..."

Peter gazed for a long moment at Edmund's shoulders and arms, glistening in the firelight. The muscles on his upper arms were beginning to develop, though his skin still looked as tender and soft as a girl's, and a few veins were becoming more pronounced on his forearms. Per poured some clean water over his hair and it ran in rivulets down his smooth back, which his older brother yearned to trace with his fingers.

"...must be miles and miles of them, since they quarried all the rock to build the castle above. I say, Peter, do you know how many miles of tunnels are under Cair?"

"Haven't the foggiest notion," he replied, willing his eyes to return to the book. "I don't think they've ever been measured. Maybe the Dwarfs would know."

As his brother continued chatting with the page, Peter waited for his heart to stop racing. That had been close — if Edmund's eyes had not been closed against the water being poured over his head, he would have caught him staring. When the younger king was finished with his bath and stood up, dripping and as naked as the day he was born, Peter resolutely kept his eyes fixed upon one word in the book, although for the life of him he could not have said what that word was. Per helped Edmund dry off, then went to get the other servants to empty and refill the tub, while Edmund pulled on the fresh nightshirt that Mrs. Dumplesugar had laid out for him earlier.

"What're you reading?" Edmund asked, approaching Peter while toweling his hair.

"Um... I don't know. Something boring," was his brother's vague answer, and he set the book down with a sigh. Edmund sat in the chair facing him, a thoughtful expression creasing his brow.

"Pete," he began, in a rather different tone, "are you all right? I mean, are you sleeping all right? You've been looking so tired lately..."

Peter considered his response with care, knowing that an outright lie would not pass muster with his brother.

"I haven't been sleeping well, no," he finally answered, in a low voice so as to not be overheard by the servants. "But don't worry about it, Ed... I'll be all right."

"Isn't there anything we can do? At least get you something to help you sleep?"

"Like what? There aren't any drugstores here, like in London, you know."

"Well... what about chamomile tea? Isn't that supposed to help you sleep?"

"So I've heard," Peter replied dubiously, and Edmund was already on his feet, asking the servants if they might have any chamomile tea in the castle. One servant said he would check in the kitchens, and meanwhile Peter's bath was now ready for him, so he stripped out of his travel-stained clothes (putting them in a basket with Edmund's for Mrs. Dumplesugar to wash tomorrow) and stepped into the tub. The warmth was welcome, and although the hot spring water had a faint smell of sulfur, it was quickly overpowered by the scent of the herbal soap that Per wielded to wash his hair.

Edmund noticed how much more crowded Peter was in the tub, and frankly admired the thick layers of muscle on his brother's chest and shoulders. While Peter washed his front, starting with his toes, Per scrubbed the High King's broad back, and Edmund wondered if he would ever have such a large frame himself. Then, realising that he was cooling off quickly from his own bath and that his hair was still quite damp, he came over to sit an arm's length away from the tub with his back to the fire.

Peter was surprised to see him come so close, but was grateful that Edmund's lovely face was obscured by the shadows. He concentrated on washing himself, trying not to think impure thoughts that would make his body betray him.

"So, Per," Edmund asked conversationally, "how long have you been at Anvard?"

"Three years now, your Majesty," the boy answered. "Ever since... well, ever since my father died."

"Oh! I'm sorry to hear that," Edmund said, feeling bad for having broached the subject. "But I would think being a knight here — or at least in training to be a knight — is a jolly good way to live. King Lune is an absolute brick!"

"His highness has been very kind to me," Per replied, in a rather short manner. Peter would have assumed that the boy was out of breath from his work, but Edmund's keen perception told him otherwise.

"What's the matter? Is anybody being hard on you?" he asked bluntly, causing Per's hand to stop its motion down Peter's back.

"No, your Majesty — not at all," was his too-hasty response. Now even Peter knew that something was bothering the boy, and turned to face him.

"What is it, Per?" the High King asked in a gentle tone. "We are all friends here. It is only by a chance of fortune and Aslan's good grace that we were made kings, and not servants as you are. Please, speak freely."

"And you needn't call me 'your Majesty,' either," Edmund added. "Well, at least not when we're alone. I suppose you'd catch it if you didn't in public."

"Indeed," the boy said, taken aback, "your Majesties are too kind..."

"Tell me truthfully," Peter demanded, in a soft yet firm voice, "do any of the knights here mistreat you? For I am certain that King Lune would wish to know of it, and would not tolerate any ungentlemanly behaviour by his men."

"No, your Majesty!" Per protested. "I am not mistreated at all. In fact, the King himself has sworn his protection over me."

Peter's eyes narrowed, and Edmund asked, "Why would he have to do that?"

Now Per trembled, but it took the young kings only a moment to understand why.

"Please, your Majesties... my father was on the ship that Lord Bar escaped upon, when he stole away Prince Cor."

There was a moment of heavy silence, for the treachery of the former Lord Chancellor had cut deep into the heart of King Lune — indeed, of all Archenland. Edmund wished he could find something to say that would make Per feel better, but had no success. When Peter finally spoke, however, his words were measured and sure.

"You were only a child then, and can hardly be blamed for your father's misdeeds. And perhaps, from what I have heard of Lord Bar, he had threatened some harm upon your family in order to secure your father's loyalty."

Per bowed where he knelt, still trembling, so low that he nearly hit his head on the side of the tub.

"Your Majesty is the picture of charity," he said, his voice betraying his tears. "Those were the exact words of my master, King Lune."

"Then think no longer on it," Peter told him, placing a kind hand on the boy's shoulder. "And if any man chooses to think ill of you, or less than you deserve, because of what your father may have done under coercion, remember that there are no less than three kings who would vouch for your character — based upon **your** actions, and your actions alone."

Per was quite overcome for a few minutes, but finally nodded, and (after drying his face on his sleeves) continued assisting King Peter to bathe. He noted also that although the water had cooled during their discourse, the High King never breathed a word of complaint, and counted himself lucky to have served one of the noblest men in the world.

#

Edmund had watched in fascination as Peter had stepped out of the tub, observing the differences in their physique during the brief moment before his older brother (blushing) wrapped himself in a large towel. Now the tub had been removed from their room, and Peter was sitting cross-legged before the fire in a nightshirt that matched his brother's, combing out his hair and sipping his chamomile tea. Per had left after making sure that they both had everything they could possibly want or need.

"I'm glad you thought of the possibility that his father had been blackmailed," Edmund remarked, now that they were alone.

"I am, too," Peter honestly confessed. "I wanted to make him feel better, and the idea just popped into my head."

Edmund nodded, his eyes never leaving Peter's hands as they tried to pull the comb through his wet hair.

"Here, let me do that," he finally said, stumping over on his knees. "It's tangled. You'll never get it by brute force!"

Peter sighed and relinquished the comb, which was actually stuck in the tangle, and waited while his brother gingerly picked it loose. He could see Edmund's slim outline through his nightshirt, backlit as he was by the fire, and could not shut his eyes against such a tempting sight. Indeed, his hands were wrapped around his brother's waist before he had even realised it himself. Edmund felt a thrill of satisfaction as the familiar warmth begirded him, and a happy smile settled on his face as he worked to smooth Peter's hair.

When his brother had placed his hand on Per in a kingly gesture of reassurance, an unnamed emotion had stirred within Edmund. If pressed, he might have described it as "pride" as well as "curiosity" or "interest," but certainly not as "jealousy." And yet, with this tangible proof that he was still the High King's brother, and would always be special to Peter — the only one privy to such gentle affirmations of kinship (other than their sisters, of course) — he felt as though some shadow over his soul had been dispelled.

"There!" he cried in triumph as the last gnarl came loose and Peter's golden locks fell free about his head.

"Thanks," Peter replied, self-consciously taking his hands off of his brother and (for want of something to do) drinking the last of his tea. Edmund sat on his heels, directly between Peter and the fire.

"I hope it helps," he said, referring to the tea.

"Me, too," Peter agreed, setting the cup and saucer on a table. "We should get to bed. It's been a long day..."

Edmund nodded and scurried into the bed closer to the window, while Peter slid into the one by the wall. They both took a minute or two getting settled in, and right about when Peter was feeling comfortable, he heard his brother rustling around again.

"Say, Pete?"

"What?"

"Are you cold?"

"No. Why, are you?"

"A little."

"You should've gotten into bed right after your bath," Peter chided. "Now you're chilled."

"I thought I'd be all right in front of the fire."

"It's burned down quite a bit. I'll add another log."

While Peter got up again to do so, leaving the comfort of his own bed, Edmund flapped his arms and legs to try to get his sheets warm, but to no avail. After Peter had slipped back into bed, he timidly called out again.

"Peter?"

"Hm?"

"Would it be all right if I slept with you tonight?"

There was a slight pause before Peter answered, "Sure," in which his better judgment screamed at him to say something, **any**thing, to dissuade his brother. But he had never been able to refuse his brother — at least, not for the past two years or so. And his better judgment was overruled by his own, very selfish desires.

Edmund assumed that the slight hesitation in Peter's reply was due to his recent exhaustion, and hoped that it wasn't too much of an imposition, but he truly felt chilled in his own bed (especially after leaving the warmth of the fire and having Peter's hands removed from around him). And so, not a moment after Peter had assented, Edmund's lithe young body slipped in under the covers and into his brother's arms.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he burrowed closer.

"Don't mention it," Peter responded, then added, "Turn around — I'll warm your back."

Obediently rolling over, Edmund was rewarded with warmth as Peter wrapped his arms around him, his hands pressed flat against his sides and his chest against his back. Sighing in contentment, Edmund fell asleep in a few minutes, his own hands covering his brother's larger ones as though holding them in place.

When Edmund's breathing had slowed, Peter finally allowed himself to press his lips to the nape of his brother's neck. His body responded with strident desire, which would have been obvious to Edmund were he awake.

"Aslan... forgive me," he breathed, then tasted Edmund's exposed skin to his lust's content, pressing his needy manhood against his brother's tender backside until it was relieved of its burden. Though he blushed in shame at his indiscretion, he fell thereafter into a deep and restful sleep.


	8. DELETED Peter Finally Sleeps

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	9. Mrs Dumplesugar Steals His Knickers

My Fair Brother

* * *

At her own insistence, Mrs. Dumplesugar had breakfast in the servants' dining room near the kitchens, and although the Humans were a bit shy around the Talking Raccoon at first (many of them having never met a Talking Beast of any kind before), Mrs. Dumplesugar was not the sort of person you could be shy around for long, especially as she regaled them with stories of Narnia and her own mischievous kits. Then when the linen maids rose to go on their rounds, she joined them to pick up the clothes hampers of her own charges.

"Oh, but Mrs. Dumplesugar," one girl protested, "you're our guest here! We'd be happy to wash your kings' and queens' things."

"Nonsense, my dear," she replied, tying on her apron and tucking the soap (which she had brought all the way from Cair Paravel) into a pocket. "I would be out of sorts all day if I didn't do a bit of washing in the morning! My dear King Peter said I must come with them on a holiday, but I'd enjoy myself much better if I made myself useful first."

So saying, she trotted along behind her Human colleagues to the royal quarters and dragged out first the hamper from the girls' room (where she was staying as well), then gathered a few items from the Dwarfs' and Mr. Tumnus room, and finally entered the boys' room. Not having been at the royal breakfast table, she did not know that Peter was still asleep, and without even bothering to look around she started pushing the hamper across the floor. The noise was enough to rouse the High King from his repose.

"Mrs. Dumplesugar," Peter murmured, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"Why, bless me!" the Raccoon exclaimed, peering over the top of the basket. "I had no idea you were here, your Highness!"

"Oh?" was Peter's sleepy reply. He sat up in bed, then as he looked around the room, he realised that he was not in his own chambers in Narnia, but visiting Anvard. Suddenly the events of the previous evening rushed to the forefront of his memory, making him blush. "Oh! But... where's Edmund?" he asked, confounded as he found himself alone in his bed and the other bed empty as well.

"I would think he's had his breakfast by now," Mrs. Dumplesugar answered, coming over to check on the High King; for she wondered if he might not be ill to be still in bed. "Are you feeling quite well, your Majesty?"

"Yes, thank you. In fact... I haven't felt so well-rested in a long time..."

His eyes continued to search the room for traces of Edmund's presence, his emotions a jumble of guilt and happiness, while the Beast placed a gentle paw on his knee.

"Eh! I see how it is, your Majesty — your royal brother has left you to sleep, and it's a good thing that he has! You've been altogether too worn from your cares, and he (thinking to do you some good, of course) must have left you to make the most of your holiday. I'm sure he's explained your absence to the good King Lune, too, for he's that clever and thoughtful! And I **am** so glad to see you looking more like yourself — beggin' your pardon, your Highness, but you **had** begun to look a little too old for your tender years. Now, you should take your time getting yourself ready, and go out to meet the court with a fresh face, as befitting a Man of your youth. I know just what you ought to wear, too!"

As she had prattled away, she had gotten into the trunk which she had packed with his clothes, and pulled out a brilliant blue outfit that she had pressed just before leaving Cair Paravel. Peter listened only half-heartedly, for he wondered if Edmund might have found out what he had done, but shaking himself to attend to the kind Raccoon, he moved to step out of bed — only then remembering what a state his garments were in. He did not feel the usual insistent need, either, which meant that he must have spilled his seed in his sleep again.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dumplesugar," he said, trying hard not to blush. "That will do very nicely."

Her sharp eyes did not miss the fact that he was sitting on the edge of the bed but had the covers pulled about him.

"Well, as I was just come to gather the wash," she said, very reasonably and pointedly, "you may as well give me your nightshirt, too. Not to mention your knickers."

Peter blanched at her direct words, then blushed like a ripening apple.

"B—B—But Mrs. Dumplesugar!" he protested, as she pushed the basket of laundry towards him with a determined glint in her black eyes. "I really... I need to... that is, you know..." he trailed off helplessly.

"Now, my dear King Peter," she began, in a tone of voice that said she would not brook any foolishness from him today. "We've had this talk before, haven't we? And it simply won't do to have you hanging your wet things about this room, since there's no balcony for you to spread them out on, like back at home. I've finally gotten King Edmund to be sensible about this sort of thing and to put all his wash in the hamper as he should; don't make me think that his brother and elder has less sense than he!"

She thrust out her little black paw (much larger than any raccoon's paw in our world, but still much tinier than Peter's) expectantly, and in meek submission, the High King took off his nightshirt, folded it, and handed it to her. It was followed by his undergarment (taken off under the covers, for he was very modest, even in front of a Raccoon old enough to be his grandmother) which made him blush redder still.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled in shame, not knowing what else to say.

"Nonsense, my dear," she said, pulling out his clothes from the day before to place on top of his soiled nightclothes, "it's only natural that you've got the yearning, at your age, and who would know that better than I? For my boys were so restless once it started that they drove me to distraction! I didn't have a moment's peace until they were all settled in their own homes with their wives. The best thing for it is to find a fetching She-Human and settle down as soon as possible, your Majesty — and where better to find a lovely Daughter of Eve than here in Anvard, where there are so many of them? And all very sweet and sensible from what I've seen. Now, King Peter, you must go out and be as charming as I know you can, and find yourself a lovely queen!"

And after a final, affectionate pat to his knees, Mrs. Dumplesugar pushed the basket out of the room.

Peter let out a long sigh and got up from the bed, muttering, as he washed himself with some cold water in the basin, "I must be the only king in the world who has his 'knickers' stolen by a Raccoon!"

###

When King Peter followed the sounds of cheers and applause out to the courtyard, King Edmund was still going at it hammer and tongs with Prince Corin, much to the delight of the royal personages as well as the courtiers in attendance. Having realised what a disadvantage his height was in dealing with the little tyke, Edmund had strapped some padding (such as were worn under armour, for the shoulders) on to his knees, and was waging his wooden-sword duel upon them. Prince Corin now had the advantage of easier movement, but was so intent upon hitting his target as to not be making good use of it; however, he was having such a good time (with at last an opponent short enough to reach) that it scarcely mattered.

Peter had hoped to slide into a seat next to Susan unnoticed, but his host had no subtlety of that nature.

"My dear King Peter!" King Lune cried aloud, as soon as he had espied him. "Welcome, and most heartily! For thy masterful brother hath provided us with such fine sport, that the only thing lacking to make this scene perfect was thine own most august and noble presence!"

Peter blushed but managed, with a sheepish smile, to bow as gracefully as he ever had.

"I must humbly beg of your Majesty's gracious pardon," he began, then caught sight of Edmund grinning at him impishly, which made his heart skip a beat while it brought some relief to his other worries. "But my **venerable** brother seems to have lapsed in his decorous duty, leaving me to slug abed for half the morning. My only excuse is that your Majesty's warm reception of the evening past had left me so overwhelmed that I was insensible to the dawning day."

"Pshaw, my good friend! Thou needest make no apology to me," King Lune countered, clasping Peter in his bearlike embrace. "For what better proof of our accommodation could you give than to sleep well and deeply, and arise refreshed as thou lookest today?" He grasped Peter's shoulders as he said so, appraising the healthy glow of the younger man's countenance and looking quite pleased. "Come, thy repast is awaiting thee, and observe how thy brother makes almost a man out of my son! Sooth, if Corin is as fine a swordsman as King Edmund by the time he is his equal in years, I should be the proudest father alive!"

"My brother has already bested me in a match fairly played," Peter remarked, sitting down as a servant brought him some fruit. "If we were not removed our several years, he should no doubt be the more dangerous man, for in addition to his skill, he has a dexterity which few can match."

"Aye, that he does," King Lune agreed, watching as his son tried (in vain) to catch Edmund with his toy sword, each time being foiled by a deft block of the shield. Even on his knees, Edmund managed to evade the prince, who was getting somewhat aggravated by his own inability.

"Come, Prince Corin," he was saying just then, "you must use your shield to block my blows! See how the proper angle will deflect my sword," with the appropriate (and very restrained) strike. "There! Now block it as I come round... Good! Now try to catch mine with yours..."

"He teaches very expertly as well," King Lune pointed out. "He is no doubt a credit to his masters."

"Indeed he is," Peter said, as another plate (this time of fresh toast and eggs and sausage) was set before him. "The Centaurs who train us have often praised how quick a study he is. And were he not the son of my own father, I could say no less without compromising my veracity."

They watched for a while in silence, and Lucy came to sit beside her oldest brother, ecstatic to see him looking so well. Finally Edmund called for a break, thirsty from giving Prince Corin so many directions. Corin was disappointed, not having yet tired of this play, so his mother was coaxing him to the table with some sweets. However, he glanced back at Edmund and saw him kneeling on the ground, unarmed, trying to untie the pads from his knees. Without another thought the little prince smacked him on the head with the flat of his sword.

**"OW!" **

"Ed!"

The crack had not yet stopped reverberating in the courtyard when King Lune's voice thundered over it.

**"FIE AND SHAME, MY SON, FIE AND SHAME! TO STRIKE AN UNARMED MAN WHEN TRUCE WAS CALLED—!" **

He raved on for a few minutes more, freezing the disgraced princeling to the spot as nothing else might. Meanwhile Peter (who had cried out almost before the blow had been struck, having seen it in the making) had rushed to Edmund's side, followed by their sisters, and watched in anxious trepidation as his brother pressed a hand to his crown.

"I'm all right; it just smarts," Edmund mumbled as others drew near.

"Here, my Lord — a cold cloth," said one of the Archenlandian nobles, and Peter took it from him and placed it gently on Edmund's head.

"Thanks, that's better," the younger king murmured. "And would someone get me some water? I'm parched."

Susan grabbed a chalice of cold juice and brought it for him, which he quaffed in two great draughts. King Lune had finished scolding his son (who was made to sit in his chair with absolutely none of the sweets which Queen Primela had offered him a moment before) and came now to apologise profusely to all four siblings.

"Please, your Majesty, it's nothing," Edmund protested, standing up now as Lucy untied his other knee pad. "My head is made of much hardier stuff than that!"

"Your Grace is kindness itself," King Lune sighed, shaking his head. "But for my son to return thy patient tutelage with such treachery! He shall not sit so easy when I have done with him."

"Oh, please!" Susan gasped, guessing his intent. "He's only a little child!"

"Child or not, he must be made to learn the rules of fair combat, and at once," the king said, his expression set and grim. "But for the tender mercy which thou hast extended to him, he should have been hauled off ere now."

As their host left to deal with his son in private, Peter re-folded the cloth to place a cold side of it back upon Edmund's head, and held it there as they walked towards the table.

"Does it still sting?" Peter asked in a low voice, not wishing to distress King Lune any further by fussing over his brother excessively, yet still worried — and with some cause, for the sound of the blow had been sharp and loud.

"A little," Edmund answered, also in barely above a whisper. "But don't worry, I've had worse before and lived."

Peter was relieved to hear it, and proud of his brother for bearing it with such good grace. Without thinking, he pulled Edmund close to kiss his temple.

"For what it's worth, until you called for the rest, I thought you were doing uncommonly well."

Edmund flushed with pleasure, and was unable to hide the happiness that curved his lips. The bees in his stomach were humming again.

###

When King Lune rejoined them with Prince Corin in tow, the boy (with great tears in his eyes) was brought before King Edmund to make as contrite an apology as a child his age could manage, and Edmund (no longer needing the cold towel upon his head) very gravely and properly accepted it. Then he told the boy that they must shake hands to prove that they were friends again, and when Corin obediently did so, Edmund reached out to tickle the little prince's ribs. Corin giggled, forgetting the woe that had plagued him until a moment ago, and was eagerly scooped up by Queen Susan to sit upon her lap. Being not a little tired from playing and bawling, he fell asleep almost at once.


	10. Two Practise Duels

My Fair Brother

* * *

King Lune entertained his guests by taking them on a tour of the ramparts of Anvard, showing Peter in particular the various fortifications which he had recently undertaken to add. Although Cair Paravel was high on the cliffs above the shore and well-defended on its landed side, the High King took note in case it could be strengthened even more. Susan and Lucy hung back, chatting with Queen Primela as they strolled at a leisurely pace, and were joined by a few ladies from the court. The youngest of these tittered and giggled every time Peter or Edmund said anything, and were beginning to get on Edmund's nerves.

"Here, you see, we've begun to add a layer of thickness, since the old stones were becoming rather weather-worn," their host pointed out. The two Dwarfs (their names were Borglun and Dursolt) peered over with interest, for they were keen on anything to do with masonry or metalwork. Edmund leaned over as well, but was startled when he felt a hand grab his arm.

"Easy there, Ed," Peter cautioned. "This part of the wall hasn't been reinforced yet."

Edmund flushed, only partially because the girls were tittering again.

"I'll be all right. If they've lasted this long..." he muttered.

"I suppose... but better safe than sorry, eh, old chap?" Peter said placatingly, releasing his brother's arm. Edmund almost wished that he hadn't spoken in such a brusque manner — not that it would have kept Peter's hand on his arm for much longer. He tried to ignore the silly girls following them by remembering the warmth of his brother's touch, and realised how attentive Peter had been.

_Maybe he really needed the rest,_ he thought to himself. _Maybe he's only been so distracted lately because he hasn't been able to sleep!_

He made a mental note to ask for chamomile tea again for his brother that evening, and to make sure that their own kitchens stocked it when they returned.

###

For the midday meal — or feast, rather — Lucy made a point of finding Mrs. Dumplesugar and having her join them in the courtyard. Peter, upon hearing that the good Beast had stayed in the servants' areas that morning, agreed wholeheartedly.

"You must remember, Madam," he said, addressing the Raccoon very seriously when she arrived, down on one knee so he could speak to her better, "that we asked you to accompany us so you would enjoy yourself, and have some stories of our southern neighbours to tell your grandchildren."

"Bless you, King Peter," she chuckled, "as if the best stories aren't told in the washroom! But since you're kind enough to ask a humble Beast to dine with you, just like a real Lady, how could I refuse? I may be somewhat soapy still, but at least my paws and fur are clean to a fault!"

Her presence had a profound effect on Prince Corin, who had been too excited the day before to notice her, and who now eyed her with amazement as she talked to Peter. The High King courteously helped her up into a chair (which was quite a climb for her, being made for Humans) where she was made welcome by King Lune and Queen Primela. Corin stared at the Raccoon from across the table for a solid half-hour, barely touching his food and being (for a change) completely silent — although it was obvious, as Lucy whispered to Susan, that he was making designs on what must seem to him to be a most wondrous toy.

"Although you know," Susan whispered back, "I think our darling rascal may have just met his match! For I'm sure Mrs. Dumplesugar wouldn't let him get away with anything."

Although this was very true, the matronly Raccoon also had a soft spot for all kits, kittens, cubs, and wee tykes, so when the princeling approached her after the main courses of the meal were done, curiosity gleaming like starlight in his eyes, she was kind enough to let him pet her fur and even hug her like one of his stuffed animals.

"Easy there, my dear!" she did gasp, when he had squeezed her a trifle too hard. "I'm not filled with sawdust, nor even wool, for that matter. See? My hands are as real as yours, and nearly as big!"

There could be no two thoughts upon the matter: Prince Corin was now smitten with Mrs. Dumplesugar, and would not be parted from her. His highness' toy tea set was brought out (all very functional, only child-sized) and set on a low table, and the Raccoon poured tea while Queen Primela brought them some cakes from the dessert tray. The other Narnians found it very amusing to hear Mrs. Dumplesugar "playing house" like she might with one of her own grandchildren, and the entire assembly was hushed as the prince prattled to his new friend — trying without success to not chuckle when he could not pronounce her name properly and it came out as "Dump'sugar." But the good-humoured Beast did not mind in the least.

After listening to their play for a while, King Lune engaged Peter in a discussion on Horses, since his grooms had been much impressed with how the creatures in the stables of Anvard had improved after the King (during his last visit to Cair Paravel) had taken some advice from a few Talking Horses. Peter was happy to supply what he had learned from Farthur, the beautiful Unicorn whom he had ridden during the War against the White Witch, as well as from his other equine friends, and Edmund joined in where he could, passing on what he had heard from Phillip (his usual mount). Soon they were surrounded by the various lords and knights of Archenland, who were eager to glean what knowledge they could; for although it was not directly from the Horses' mouths, as it were, the Narnians had information nearly as valuable. The three queens and the other ladies gathered to talk of things that were more interesting to them, such as dresses and dances, while Per (the young page) kept an eye on Prince Corin, whom Mrs. Dumplesugar was still keeping amused.

When their stomachs had settled, however, both Peter and Edmund were eager for some activity — especially Peter, who felt as though he had done nothing all day until this point. They were usually kept quite busy at Cair Paravel, what with holding court and learning their lessons and training in warfare, so a day of leisure (while it might sound pleasant) was rather off-putting. As though sensing their restlessness, an older knight approached the High King with a respectful bow.

"Ah! Lord Harvers, I had forgotten that you had not met our young friends before," King Lune said, then turned to King Peter. "He keeps to his mountain fortress in the west for the most part, but happened to be here when I received thy missive, so I persuaded him to stay a little longer."

After the necessary introductions had been made (very formally and properly), the Lord addressed Peter with reserved enthusiasm.

"We have seen how well your royal brother handles his sword, even a wooden one, against the most... cunning, of opponents," he began dryly. "It would be an honour to match swords with your Highness, of whose skill I have heard much, and whose conquests are legendary."

"The honour is mine, good Sir," Peter answered, "for I perceive you are a knight of most noble worth to be entrusted with the protection of Archenland's western borders. Any lessons I may learn from a man of your experience are invaluable."

And so some blunt swords were brought out while Lord Harvers had his page bring his mail shirt, which (it must be admitted) paled in comparison to the finely-wrought Dwarfish mail that Borglun fetched for Peter from his quarters. But the High King chose to use a shield supplied by Anvard's armoury so as to not have an advantage over the older knight in equipage. The dinner tables had been set in the shade, leaving the sunlit outer area of the courtyard as a ready stage for their match, and even the ladies paused in their conversations to watch.

The two started slowly, testing the swords and shields, but once they had both gained a good sense for their borrowed gear, the contest began in earnest. Lord Harvers was indeed a skillful swordsman, seasoned by skirmishes with wandering brigands as well as the occasional Calormene spy, and Peter was grateful that this was only a training match. However, the High King of Narnia had been taught by some of the fiercest Centaurs, Minotaurs, and Dwarfs in the land, and held his own against a Man old enough to be his sire. Edmund watched and cheered his brother on, swelling with pride at every artful stroke that Peter dealt and wincing whenever he took a heavy blow from the Archenlandian lord.

Both became winded at about the same time and agreed to cease, parting with a cordial handshake and mutual regard for the other's mastery. Edmund leapt to his feet, looking for a pitcher of water with which to fill Peter's cup, when he saw the Lady Verinia approach his brother with a chalice.

"You fight most admirably, your Majesty," she said with a charming smile. "Your skill belies your youth, and does credit to your royal blood."

"Thank you," Peter replied, somewhat out of breath as he took the cup and drank. "But I fear I must disappoint you, for in our own world, our blood is no nobler than that of the common tradesman. It is only by Aslan's grace that we have been placed upon our thrones."

"Then noble character must outweigh noble birth," she countered — almost purring, Edmund thought. He did not realise that he was scowling, but suddenly felt as though the bees in his stomach had turned into hornets and were trying to sting their way out in all directions.

"Well said, well said!" King Lune cried, clapping Peter on the shoulder. "For to keep my Lord Harvers on his toes is no mean feat, and at thy tender years, too! Aslan must truly be as wise as he is great, to have chosen such a one to be his deputy."

Peter blushed at the effusive compliments, turning to his drink again. Lucy came and clung to him (having missed her chance, like Edmund, to bring him a libation) and he was glad for the diversion which she provided.

"You did marvelously well today," she told him with the simple adoration of a sister. "I think it helped that you were able to sleep so long this morning!"

"I don't doubt it," he agreed, then turned to Edmund. "I'm sorry I ever disparaged you for your thoughtfulness — I would be a most ungrateful wretch if I didn't acknowledge that what little embarrassment I suffered then has saved me from greater embarrassment now!"

Edmund's face lit up as he grinned, although he was still feeling the stings prickling his stomach.

"Don't mention it," he managed to reply, finding himself suddenly tongue-tied as his brother (his complexion ruddy from the exercise and the praise) smiled upon him. The younger king thought his heart might burst with pride, quite literally, from being related to such a splendid and magnificent High King.

"Would your Majesty care for a honey cake?" Lady Verinia asked, now bringing a plate of them.

"Thank you, I would," Peter said, sitting down for a break. "They look delicious. Lu, do you want half of this?"

As he split the cake with his youngest sister (for he had taken it more out of politeness than actual want), Edmund swallowed hard. _Why didn't __**I**__ think of that?_ he berated himself, remembering how he and Peter often craved sweet things after their training. He was also feeling something akin to what he had felt towards the White Witch (once he had been disenchanted, of course) towards the Lady Verinia, although he was being rather unfair. The young lady of Archenland had been captivated by how well King Peter had performed in the match, and was understandably moved to bring him food and drink, knowing that they were, perhaps, the easiest way to catch his attention. She had also noticed how uncommonly handsome he looked today, now that the dark circles under his eyes had disappeared, and was thinking to herself how marvelous it might be to be wooed by such a fine specimen of a Man, and no less than the High King of Narnia!

Edmund turned away, biting his lip as the hornets stung him and a nameless unease gripped his chest with roiling tentacles. With downcast eyes he saw Prince Corin still at play with Mrs. Dumplesugar, and moved to join them.

"Pardon me, your Majesty," came a voice from behind him before he had the chance to sit down, and Edmund found himself being addressed by a young knight, somewhat older than Peter. "If I may be so bold, I should very much like the favour of seeing your skill in full measure, without, er... accommodating a much younger and shorter opponent. And, since I seem to be the only one brash enough to ask such an impertinence, I am offering myself as your opponent — or victim, as the case may be."

"I hardly think you need worry about that," Edmund said, since the knight, though slim, was a full head taller than he was. "But I would be glad to match swords with you, Sir, if you would be so kind as to give me your name."

"Darian, your Majesty, at your service," he answered with a neat bow.

"Ah! I take it you're a second son, too."

"Third, actually," Darian replied. "Dar, the eldest, is with our father in our northern territory, which borders the green lands of Narnia — green once again, thanks to your Majesties ridding this world of the abhominable White Witch. My brother Darrin is in the service of our King, and I have only just been knighted. I wonder at my own daring for craving such an indulgence, but having seen your royal brother fight (and you notice how none other dares challenge **him**), I could not help but wish to see your own skill put forth in a more equitable light."

Edmund had not bothered with his mail shirt to play with Prince Corin, but he needed it to practise with Darian, so they parted for a few minutes to each fetch their gear. King Lune had been so intent in his questioning of Peter regarding his heritage in our world, especially the ranks of peerage in England, that the two young men had almost started their match before the two kings noticed.

"It seems thy brother has found a more worthy opponent," King Lune remarked, noting who it was that now faced Edmund in the courtyard. "I knighted Darian not three months ago. He is quick on his feet, and has the eyes of a hawk."

"So I see," Peter agreed as the pair began to test each other with steps as light and convoluted as a dance.

"Do you train with your royal brother often?" Lady Verinia asked, having held her peace while Peter had spoken of his country in the other world from whence he had come.

"Oh, yes," he answered, his eyes never leaving Edmund's moving figure, "every day, almost. His skill has grown as quickly as his stature, and I fear he will soon prove the better swordsman. Ah! Well countered, there!"

The young lady was more than a little discomfited by the High King's distraction, but wondered if perhaps he was still insensible to the subtle allure of the fairer sex — being more interested in sport and such boyish pastimes — and thought to test him by feigning an accidental bump against his arm. She succeeded in tearing his eyes away from the dueling pair, and he turned to apologise for jostling **her** (gentleman that he was) when in fact he had done nothing.

"A thousand pardons, my Lady—" he began, but suddenly broke off, for he caught a glimpse, beyond her shoulder, of the tiny form of Prince Corin charging into the fray (as he perceived it) with his wooden sword upraised. One moment, King Peter was before her; the next, he had darted into the courtyard after the intractable Prince.


	11. Peter's Hand and Edmund's Misgivings

My Fair Brother

* * *

Edmund had his back turned to the spectators as he slashed at Darian's legs, only to have the Archenlandian knight make a clean jump over it. He quickly reversed his sword's momentum to slash again backhanded, which Darian also leapt to avoid; however, it was at that precise moment that Prince Corin ran up to them, and Peter saw the blade of his brother's sword — blunt but still dangerous — arcing directly towards the boy's head. Flinging himself forward, he caught the edge of the blade with his right hand, blocking it from hitting Corin in the face. Heedless, the little Prince raised his wooden sword and struck Edmund's side.

Whether he dropped his sword the moment he felt resistance, or the split second after when he saw Peter on the ground before it, or the next moment when Corin's sword hit him, Edmund could never remember. But with a yelp of surprise, drop it he did, and turned to fend off Corin with his shield alone. This was not a difficult task, and King Lune came to his aid almost immediately, roaring with indignation.

Peter caught his breath and stood up, relieved that he had gotten to the boy in time, but his next thought was of his brother.

"You all right, Ed?" he asked, indicating the place where Corin had hit him with the wooden sword.

"Of course. What happened?" Edmund countered with a question of his own. "All of a sudden, I turn around and you're both right there!"

"Forgive me, Sire, I should have warned you," Darian said with chagrin. "I saw our Prince fast approaching, but had not the breath to say so."

"Nor I," Peter added. "I just wanted to grab him before he was in the thick of it."

"And my eternal gratitude is due thee, King Peter," the boy's father said, looking rather shaken for all of his shouting, for he had seen how close the blade had come to his son. "'Tis well they were only using blunts, else thy noble hand might have been severed from thy limb!"

A host of people had run up to them by now, including Queen Primela (who snatched her son up in her arms and kissed him and wept over him) and Per, who had turned a sickly colour.

"Sire, your Majesties," he said, then swallowed, for his mouth had gone dry. "It is on my account that the Prince has so narrowly escaped harm. I should have been attending to him and caught him before he left his place... but I was taken by the match, and failed at my post." He looked truly miserable as he added, "My Lord, do with me as you deem fit."

King Lune stared at the boy, at a loss for words. Per's father had aided the one who had bereft him of his first son; now Per was to blame for more trouble that might have befallen his second and only remaining son. But before he could pronounce his judgment upon the wretched youth, there was proof of how dire a situation had just been avoided, for Lucy (who had sidled up to her eldest brother) cried out at that moment.

"Peter! You're **bleeding!**"

"What?" Peter responded, holding up his hand and realising for the first time that a line of blood had been drawn on his palm. Edmund turned deathly pale as he gasped.

"Peter! By Jove, Pete, your **hand!**"

There was a collective intake of breath (especially from the ladies) as a drop of blood rolled off to spatter on the flagstones below.

"What? Were they not **blunts?**" King Lune demanded, and several courtiers scrambled to check the blade that Edmund had dropped.

"Indeed, Sire," one answered, "but it has a dent in it — perhaps from striking the edge of another — that has left it ragged."

Peter, who had assessed his wound, spoke in a calm tone to soothe ragged nerves. "It's only a scratch, your Majesty, nothing more. 'Twill heal in a day or two, and is no great cause for concern."

"Perhaps it would be so, if I did not count one drop of thy noble blood more precious than a firkin of my own," King Lune replied, peering at the streak of red. However, it was soon blotted with a most unusual handkerchief of purplish-brown stains. Edmund had pulled it out from his pocket and was wordlessly holding it against Peter's hand, his face ashen as he set the cloth, with extreme care, upon the injury.

"Ed... is this?" Peter began, thinking that he recognised the handkerchief. Edmund only nodded, not trusting his voice, for he yet feared the depth of the wound — the wound which he, however unknowingly, had inflicted upon his brother.

"It's all right," Peter assured him, understanding how he must be feeling. "See? It's just taken a layer of skin off. I've gotten worse scratches from falling off of a Horse." Seeing that Edmund was still biting his lip, Peter pulled him into a rough embrace with his uninjured hand, ruffling his hair light-heartedly and saying, "I shouldn't think you could do any grave harm with a **blunt** sword, Ed, no matter how skilled you may have become!"

The relief at seeing that the wound was not great worked curiously on Edmund — but of course, he had been struggling with strange sensations in his stomach and chest all day; he had just had a fright, thinking that he had grievously injured his beloved brother's sword hand; and he was now being held against Peter's breast with the warmth of his brother's other hand cradling his head. Perhaps he could not be blamed for what he did next: he burst into tears.

Startled, Peter felt the sobs wracking Edmund's body as he wept silently and uncontrollably. His arms were wrapped around his younger brother's shoulders in a trice, holding him in a tight embrace as he tried to give him some comfort.

"It's all right, Ed; it's all right. It's only a scratch," Peter murmured into his ear, as Edmund clung to him and Lucy and Susan gaped in surprise. "Shhh, Ed... Don't worry, it's nothing," Peter continued to soothe. He knew that his brother was distressed, and though he did not understand **why** he was distressed to such an extent, the most important thing was to calm him and reassure him.

Even King Lune was taken aback by the young king's reaction, but soon he had reasoned out an explanation.

"Ah... he took quite a turn, it seems, and for good reason! First he sees my scoundrel of a son running into his blade, and his royal brother throwing himself in harm's way to protect him, and then he fears that he has wounded his brother! Through no fault of his own, mind you, of course," he added. "No, the fault was all Corin's, who has yet to learn how to **await** his **turn**," he continued, rounding upon the boy in his mother's arms. "Thou hast disgraced me twice already this day, and had best not try my patience again, or shalt regret it for much longer than thou usually dost!" Then he turned, and in a more measured tone, addressed Per. "I cannot fault you for not having wings wherewith to catch my son, for none knows better than I how swift of foot he is. Doubtless, this shall teach you to attend to your duties better hereafter; I require no more, and no less, than that. We shall not speak of it again."

Thankfully, by the time King Lune pronounced the final word upon the whole matter, Edmund was able to pull himself together and nod to Peter's whispered queries. Yes, he was all right; yes, he knew that Peter didn't blame him; and yes, he would very much like to retire to their room to wash up and regain his composure. Peter thanked Darian on Edmund's behalf and suggested that they might be able to continue their match on the morrow, to which the knight graciously assented, wishing King Edmund a better day than he had had heretofore.

"Aye, for my blackguard son has assaulted him twice already, in violation of all rules of conduct and decency," King Lune agreed. "My good King Edmund, 'tis been a trying day for thee indeed! But I promise thee, Corin shall be tied to his chair before thou or thy blessed brother draw swords in my court again. Never fear!"

Edmund could only nod his thanks, and Peter voiced them for him, excusing themselves for a while. Lucy made to follow them, making some mention of her magic cordial, but Peter told her emphatically that it was not to be used for mere trifles such as his scratch.

"If it please your Majesties," came a voice from around their knees, "I have some salve that works wonders, and I have some bandages packed away, too."

"I've no doubt you can mend this as expertly as any doctor, Mrs. Dumplesugar," Peter replied with a smile growing on his face. "And I would be indebted to you for your services."

"It's my pleasure, to be sure, your Highness," she beamed. "It's been so long since I've had my own kits tumbling about, getting cuts and scrapes and all..."

She scurried on ahead to dig out her things, while Peter led Edmund, one arm across his shoulder, at an easier pace. They said nothing, even when they had turned down so many corridors that the noise of the assembly had faded away, for Edmund's composure was still fragile, now that he realised that he had broken down and **wept**, like a girl, in front of the entire court of Archenland. For Peter, every sniff and residual sob was heart-wrenching, and he knew not what to say to comfort his brother. He was, however, appreciative of the fact that Edmund had not cast off his arm from his shoulder as he had half feared he might.

Once in their room, they found their washbasins and pitchers replaced already, and while Peter made sure that his wound was clean, Edmund washed his face and attempted to regain his internal balance. Mrs. Dumplesugar came in soon thereafter, wielding a jar of her homemade ointment and some bandages, as promised, so Peter sat on the floor where she could more easily attend to him.

"There, that's done," she pronounced, tying the ends of the bandage. "You mustn't get it wet for a day or so, your Highness, or if you do, you must have it re-dressed, but by tomorrow night the skin should have grown together — at your age perhaps even sooner, I shouldn't be surprised! — and in another day it will harden, and in another it will be as good as new. I daresay it may have taught the little prince a well-deserved lesson if you hadn't stopped the blade, but I must confess I haven't the heart to scold the scalawag myself, much less to see him scarred! You did a good and noble thing, you did, King Peter, and I hope they have poets here in Archenland as can write a decent ballad about it. I would dearly love to hear a story-poem sung of how you saved the Prince's neck from the fell sword of your most fearsome brother!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Dumplesugar," Peter responded, "but I think they've made quite enough songs exaggerating our deeds in Narnia alone!"

"Shall I get the stains out of this, King Edmund?" she asked, waving the handkerchief that now had blood on it as well.

"No! I mean... Please... just wash it, and leave the marks be," Edmund amended.

"As you wish, your Majesty," she said, gathering up her things.

Even after she had left the room, Peter remained sitting on the floor, since Edmund was now staring off into space with a troubled expression, pacing the room aimlessly.

"Is something bothering you, Ed?" he asked softly.

"No. I'm fine," was his all-too-quick answer. He took off his mail shirt and tossed it on to his bed. Peter waited, and his patience was rewarded, for Edmund (twisting his fingers in nervousness) broke the silence by rescinding his previous statement.

"Actually, there **is** something bothering me," he confessed.

"Tell me," Peter urged.

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Of course."

Edmund looked as though he already regretted what he'd said, but could not go back, and ended up blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Do you like her? What's-her-name, Lady Veranda or whatever — the one that's always fawning over you."

"Lady Verinia?" Peter asked in turn, startled.

Edmund nodded.

"Uh... She's a nice girl, and has been very helpful," Peter tenuously began. "I think she's been a good friend to Susan and Lucy, too. Why? Do you... Do you fancy her?" he asked, the suspicion making his heart skip a beat.

"**NO!** Of course not," Edmund scowled, and there was a ferocity in his denial that left no room for doubt. "I... I just... I don't know. I don't like her. I don't like the way she's always bringing you food, and drink, like she's... — all right, I'll just come out and **say** it! — like she's trying to **bewitch** you or something."

Peter's jaw hung open for a minute.

"Y—You think...?"

"Oh, I don't think she's a **real** witch or anything, of course," Edmund retorted, rather cross from feeling guilty (and rightfully so) for making such an unfounded accusation. "I don't have any proof, if that's what you want, but I just get this uncomfortable feeling whenever she gives you something to eat or drink. She reminds me of the White Witch."

Peter digested this before he made a reply.

"You may be more right than you know," he slowly stated. "I'd felt her arm against mine, just before I saw Prince Corin dash out — in fact, if she hadn't touched me, I mightn't have seen him in time. Anyway, I'm sure I hadn't moved, but her arm brushed against mine, so I was about to apologise to her. You may be right in saying that she's trying to bewitch me, although not in the same sense as the White Witch... just that she's trying to make me like her. And that's not a crime, you know. In fact, most chaps would be flattered."

Edmund swallowed, seeing things in a more reasonable light now.

"So... are you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Flattered? A little, of course. She's a pretty girl — who wouldn't be? But... if she's hoping that I'll start courting her in earnest, I'm afraid she'll be disappointed... I'm just not ready for, you know... that sort of attachment. Not just yet."

If Peter knew how much relief his words had afforded his brother, he would have been curious as to the reason why; but Edmund reined in his emotions, not wanting to end up blubbing like he had before, although his heart was doing cartwheels inside his chest.

"Maybe you're right about the food, though," Peter continued. "I haven't turned down anything she's brought me, and maybe that's given her false hope. I wouldn't want her to be dashed, later... I should start refusing some of the things she brings — not everything, of course, since we're guests here and I don't want to be rude, but just enough that, well... she won't get her hopes up."

Edmund nodded, suddenly ceasing his pacing to plop down on the floor in front of Peter.

"It's not like I thought she was actually giving you enchanted food, you know," he explained, with a sheepish smile. "It's just... she made me uneasy. Like she was coming after you."

Peter returned the smile with a tenderness in his eyes that Edmund had come to expect.

"It's all right — I won't be captured so easily. Not by a Daughter of Eve, anyway..."

Which reminded Edmund of the Mermaid, and he could have slapped himself for having forgotten. For how could a Human girl, no matter how lovely, compete with the ethereal beauty of a Mermaid? He had been worried over nothing!

"We should probably get back to our host," Peter remarked, and Edmund agreed, feeling much lighter in spirit.

As they walked down the long hallways, Edmund had already forgotten his embarrassing behaviour from earlier, for his brother was smiling and complimenting him on his last match. The Sun was shining, so the storm was soon forgotten.


	12. A Bath After the Dance

My Fair Brother

* * *

Although Peter was rather startled to hear Edmund's misgivings about Lady Verinia, he had come to trust his brother's instincts about people, and accordingly gave the Lady rather wide berth thereafter. When they returned to the courtyard to rejoin their sisters, she offered Peter a flagon of cider, which he accepted but only to give to Edmund (who was still thirsty and glad enough for it). Then she brought over a platter of tiny, buttered slices of bread with different jams; Peter's rebuff was so courteous and polite that it hardly felt as such, but the Lady did sense it, and left the High King in peace for some time.

King Lune had taken his son to the Nursery again to instruct him, so Susan and Lucy had been keeping Queen Primela company along with the rest of the ladies of the court. Their hostess had been understandably morose ever since her son Cor had been stolen away, and although the two younger queens were trying their best to be engaging, Queen Primela would sometimes sigh and purse her lips. Lucy simply embraced her on those occasions, and Susan would hold the grieving mother's hand.

Peter had sat next to Susan (for Mr. Tumnus was on the other side of Lucy) with Edmund right beside him, and in a lull in the conversation Queen Primela observed the two brothers with eyes full of sadness and longing.

"I had wished that my sons would have become even as you are," she confessed with a mournful smile, "the younger helping the elder to rule as his councillor and best ally. Alas! My Corin must rule, and do so alone, though he seems ill-suited for it."

"Surely, Madam, you are too hard in your estimation of him," Peter gently countered. "He is as yet only a child, and who can say if his elder would have been the better king? I wonder about that myself, some days... My brother has proven the wiser judge in many matters, and the more patient. But perhaps Corin shall be the greatest king of all, with wisdom gleaned from all of his own mistakes."

Edmund's eyes had widened in surprise, his cheeks blushing and his mouth hanging ajar until he saw Lucy looking at him and suppressing a giggle, whereupon he snapped his mouth shut and blushed even more. Peter was never ungenerous in his praise, but this was high praise indeed (for Edmund greatly respected his brother's judgment), and the younger king repeated the words in his mind to commit them to memory. He knew that he would treasure them forever, just as he treasured Peter's regard.

Queen Primela's smile grew and some of the sadness lifted from her.

"My dear King Peter, how right I hope you to be! For sooth, Corin has made more than his share of mistakes in his young life already, and if each one were to be a lesson learned, why, he truly ought to be the wisest king of all! And yet, I see how it is with you... As High King, you must care for all of your land and subjects; and your brother and sisters, in their turn, care for you. Is this not so?"

"We do try," Lucy replied, looking up at her friend. "Peter's responsible for us, too, you see — our mother charged him before we left her — and so he bears a heavier burden than the rest of us."

"Oh, Lu," Peter protested, now turning red himself. "You're hardly a burden! And with most of the White Witch's rabble stamped out, Narnia is easy enough to rule. But I'll admit, I couldn't have done it without you — all of you."

Susan flashed him a smile, then turned back to Queen Primela.

"You needn't worry about Corin, your Majesty," she assured her. "As you have been like a mother to us in this world, and King Lune as our father, so we consider Corin to be our brother as well. Should he ever need our help in any way, we shall always be willing to lend it."

"I thank you, my dear friends," the Queen replied, embracing Lucy and clasping Susan's hand while holding back her tears. "It is such a blessing to have friends like thee!"

"And it **is** rather nice having a younger brother," Edmund mused with a grin. "I see now what a boon I've been to you, Peter!"

Although everyone laughed at his jest, Peter thought how true it was, even if there were moments when his heart felt as though it would burst from the abundance of affection which it was forced to contain. The dam at Beaversdam held back no less of a torrent, he was sure, as he gazed upon his brother's fair, joyful face for as long as he dared.

###

When King Lune returned, Peter asked the Dwarfs if they might show the royal ironsmiths how they went about their work, and they agreed with a good will, so the menfolk (including most of the knights and courtiers) traipsed to the smithy, while the ladies turned to sewing or drawing while they chatted. Lucy would rather have joined her brothers, but she consoled herself by drawing a tolerably good impression of Peter in his full armour in battle, which Lady Verinia much admired.

Dinner that evening was another feast, and afterward King Lune surprised his guests with a troupe of minstrels that he had called from a nearby village to provide music for them.

"Now, my good Mr. Goat's-foot, you may dance to your heart's content!" he grinned, slapping Mr. Tumnus' back.

"Your Majesty is the picture of kindness," he replied, "although 'tis no drudgery for a Faun to play and dance; however, I shall enjoy the dance all the more for having new music to learn."

And with a graceful bow Mr. Tumnus asked Queen Susan for the first dance, a rollicking tune from the Archenlandian hills, and they stepped out briskly to the great delight of all who watched. Edmund begged Lucy to be his partner (for he would rather dance with her than be paired with a girl he didn't know), and they joined in, their feet moving in time to the high-spirited music. Which left Peter standing alone, with the Lady Verinia at his side. Not wishing to appear ungallant, he asked her for the dance, which she happily accepted. Peter's first concern was that he not tread upon her toes, but to her credit she was an excellent dancer, and in a few turns had put Peter so much at ease that he did as well as his brother.

They were all winded from the pace of the first dance and sat out the next, which was an old country dance that required the dancers to clap and slap their elbows and knees at intervals. King Lune and Queen Primela joined a few of their courtiers on this one, for it was from the western mountains where the Queen had grown up, and there was much merriment as King Lune mistook which part to slap, and once headed in the wrong direction. Then for the third dance, Peter hastily got Lucy as his partner, Susan was asked by one of the young nobles, and Mr. Tumnus enthralled the musicians by joining them with his pipe. Edmund shrank back, hoping that their host would not insist on finding a partner for him again.

"King Edmund," came a voice from behind him, and he turned to find himself facing the Lady Verinia. "How charmingly you dance with your sister!"

"Thank you," he answered, flushing and hoping that his dislike of her didn't show on his face.

"Both you and your regal brother seem to prefer the company of your sisters," she remarked, "but I assure you, the women of Archenland would love the chance to prove how amiable we are to our guests."

"I—I've no doubt you would — I mean, you are," Edmund amended. "But we're used to our sisters, you see, and they're used to us. Susan hardly even turns a hair anymore when Peter steps on her feet."

"You are as jovial a wit as our King Lune," she tittered. "King Peter was quite adroit when I had the pleasure. I cannot believe that he so often missteps!"

"He hasn't much lately. The Dryads have been teaching us, and I daresay we've both gotten much better."

"Indeed! The Dryads teach you to dance? Tell me, what are they like?"

While Edmund did his best to describe the leafy tree people to her, the song ended and Peter stepped to the edge of the courtyard alone, for Lucy was now dancing with King Lune. Even Mrs. Dumplesugar had allowed herself to be dragged out by Prince Corin, and kept him to the edge of the swirling dancers as best she could while still keeping time. She moved quite well for someone with (it must be admitted) rather rotund hindquarters, and was the perfect height for the little prince.

As the High King laughed and clapped with the other onlookers, though, his eyes were roving through the crowd in search of his brother, and he started when he saw with whom Edmund was speaking. But he saw almost as quickly that his brother was addressing her out of courtesy, not willingly, for there was a tell-tale furtive glance, revealing that he was looking for some distraction to tear him away. Peter wished with all his heart that he might be able to provide it, but knew that if he approached them he could not neglect to ask her for another dance, and resigned himself to at least finding another partner. There was no shortage of them, after all, and so for the next hour he danced with as many young ladies as he could manage, and never more than once with any of them.

Meanwhile, the Lady Verinia was truly fascinated by the many wondrous creatures who lived in Narnia, and since she saw that the High King would not be asking her to dance again, she was just as happy to learn about his country from his brother. For she could not help but notice how close the two brothers were (having seen the tender solicitude with which each had cared for the other during the course of the day), and hoped to gain information from the younger that would aid her in addressing the older.

"So there are actual winged horses in your realm?" she asked.

"Yes, although they're very rare anymore. Peter thinks that most of them have gone beyond the Western Wild to hide from Men, who've tried to capture them and tame them. They don't like being saddled and ridden, and I can't say that I blame them! But they flew out to pay their respects when we toured the western border. Majestic creatures... I wouldn't have the nerve to try to ride one without its permission, though."

"What other wonderful creatures are there, pray tell? Although... forgive me, for I am keeping you from the dance..."

Edmund shrugged. "It's no bother, really. I don't much care to be paired off with someone I hardly know..." He glanced out at the dancers and caught sight of Peter with a slender girl with long, dark hair, and seeing his brother smiling at her made his breath hitch. Swallowing, he tried to think of another creature that might be interesting to Lady Verinia, and suddenly remembered a very marvelous sort of creature indeed.

"Have you been to the sea very often?" he asked her.

"No, only once. It is lovely, but I prefer the mountain air to the salt breeze."

"Well then, you've probably never seen a Mermaid. I wonder do they even swim this far south? Although I suppose they can jolly well go wherever they want to..."

Lady Verinia stared at him openmouthed for a moment. "There are Mermaids? Truly?" she asked in awe.

"Oh, yes! And Mermen, too — Merfolk, we call them. They sang to us on our coronation day in Cair Paravel, and come by every first of Spring as well. Sometimes they'll swim alongside our ship when we visit the islands. Beautiful creatures, simply **breathtaking**," he stressed. "You can tell they're intelligent, too, for they have their own language, but we simply haven't learned how to speak it yet. They seem to accept the High King as having authority over them, somehow, even though they must have their own king to rule them under water."

He came very close to mentioning that Peter was smitten with one of them, but held his tongue, reminding himself that it was not his secret to share. Besides, what did it matter if the Lady Verinia knew that her case was hopeless, as long as it **was** hopeless? So he moved on to describe the Centaurs (of which the Lady had met one, who had accompanied the Narnians on their last visit to Anvard) and other creatures, until the dance was ended and he was free to retire to the room he shared with Peter.

###

Per and the other servants had prepared the bath for them again, and this time Edmund insisted that Peter go first. However, Peter could not use his bandaged right hand, and although Per was willing to do whatever was necessary (especially since Peter had saved Prince Corin from harm), Edmund also wanted to help.

"Ed, I'm not helpless, you know... I still have one good arm," Peter protested as his brother cast off his shirt — exposing his pale skin to be gilded by the glow of the fire — and grabbed a cloth from Per.

"I know you're not an invalid," Edmund replied, "but since it was my blade that cut you, I ought to at least fill in for your right hand." So saying, he began washing his brother's feet while Per washed the High King's back. Peter, not having a cloth to use himself, could only watch helplessly as his half-naked brother bent to scrub his legs, working up to where his rebellious member was ready to betray him at any second. He closed his eyes and tried to think of the most vile, disgusting things that he had ever seen, blocking out the sight of Edmund's smooth, white skin and soft, tender lips—

"**FAUGH!** Hi! **Ed**mund!" Peter suddenly cried out in protest, jumping in surprise and almost leaping out of the tub when his brother (with no qualms or reservations whatsoever) grabbed his privates and attempted to wash them.

"What? Sit still, won't you?" Edmund retorted. "You're sloshing water all over. And it's not like I'm scrubbing **that** hard!"

Shocked, Peter settled back into the tub, his mind seemingly frozen from the realisation that his brother had no sense of impropriety over what he had just done. Or rather, was **doing** — for he once again scrubbed the most sensitive part of Peter's anatomy (although more gently this time) before moving up to his stomach and thereon to his chest with perfect aplomb. At least the shock had the effect of keeping Peter's baser desires in check, and once he had been thoroughly washed, he waited only long enough for his hair to dry — blowing and drinking his chamomile tea in haste — before plunging into the haven of his bed.

He half-listened to his brother talking to Per as he took his own turn in the bath, laughing over the events of the day, including getting his head smacked by Prince Corin. Peter was still shaken over the fact that Edmund had no inhibitions in touching another man's privates, even though he **was** his brother, and determined to talk to him about it as soon as they were alone. However, once the tub had been removed and Per had bid them both goodnight, Peter found it impossible to broach the subject.

Edmund crouched before the fire, sipping the chamomile tea that Per had brought for him, too, and feeling quite content. Peter had not been injured badly, and had paid him some of the highest compliments he could ever have hoped for. Helping to wash his older brother had also been an interesting experience, for it had allowed him to look at as well as feel (through the cloth) a grown man's body — something he hoped to soon gain for himself. It was with satisfaction that he sighed before slipping into his bed.

"Goodnight, Peter," he called.

"Goodnight, Ed," came the muffled reply. But whereas Edmund fell asleep almost immediately, Peter's thoughts lingered for a long while on how his brother's hands had passed over his body, and how disturbingly delightful it might have felt had he not been so mortally embarrassed.


	13. DELETED Helping Each Other

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	14. DELETED Edmund Rises to the Occasion

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	15. The Roar of The Lion

My Fair Brother

* * *

Peter was awoken from his sound slumber with a start, and with the roar of a Lion — **the** Lion, Aslan — echoing in his ears. Heart pounding, he sat up in his bed, pulling the covers with him. He could not remember what, if anything, he had dreamt, but the sound and the terror reverberated in his mind well enough. It took him a moment to catch his breath, and only after he did so did he notice his brother, still sleeping quietly beside him.

Their activities of the previous evening came back in a rush, and now he feared that his heart would cease its beating. For what excuse could he give? That he had allowed his younger brother to pleasure him was bad enough; at least he could claim that his hand had been injured, and that Edmund had begged him, earnestly, to serve him in this manner. But what he had done afterwards was indefensible, for he had sought (with his brother's permission, of course, but still wrongfully) to pleasure Edmund in the same way, for no other reason than that he wanted to touch his brother with such intimacy and to hear his sweet voice raised in ecstasy. Peter trembled with guilt at what he had done, knowing that Edmund was already confused — or at best, misguided — about what was morally acceptable behaviour, and certain now that he himself had contributed to his brother's lack of boundaries.

_Oh, Aslan,_ he thought, burying his head in his hands, _what have I done? And how can I possibly undo it?_

He cast back in his mind to Edmund's first experience, when his brother had implored him to help with this task. Clearly, that was where he had first gone wrong, for their father had never attempted to touch him, even while explaining the process explicitly and in detail. By giving in to his brother's whimpered cries for help, he had in effect taught him that it was all right to be handled there by another — as long as it was his brother — and, by extrapolation, that it was all right to reciprocate the gesture. At least he had confirmed yesterday that Edmund considered this acceptable only between brothers, but even that was far removed from the norms of English society.

_This must come from not being in the company of other Humans enough,_ Peter sighed. _**I**__ ought to have set him a good example, at least! But I've already given in to what I wanted myself, so much... It's __**my**__ fault that he doesn't know any better... _

He groaned, causing Edmund to stir in his sleep. The younger boy was cold from having the blankets pulled off, and turned to seek warmth, groping for the covers. Noticing his movements, Peter lay back down and tucked the covers around Edmund's shoulders. Now his brother was facing him, his innocent face still peaceful in repose and as beautiful as ever. He had reached out to stroke that pale skin with a finger before he had even realised it himself, and remembered, with a guilty pang, how his issue had dripped down that face last night. He had spoiled his brother — **defiled** his brother — under the guise of... what? Fraternal affection?

_No. I took advantage of his innocence,_ Peter told himself with brutal clarity. _He might have asked for it, but that was only because I'd never explained to him how wrong it is._

It was still early in the morning, as he could tell from the few shafts of light that entered through the gaps in the drapes. _Once Edmund wakes up,_ he vowed, _we'll have a talk. I need to set this right, and the sooner the better._

He propped himself up on one elbow to gaze down at his brother. He traced the hollow of his lovely cheek with the tips of his fingers — his hand bandaged by none other than Edmund himself — and saw only perfection there.

_Oh, Aslan!_ he silently cried. _He's so beautiful! Why did he have to be so beautiful? But I know... that doesn't pardon what I did. Why do I feel this way, anyhow? He's not just my brother, he's a __**boy**__. Why can't I feel this way about a girl? Is there something wrong with me? There __**must**__ be... Oh, Aslan, Aslan, how I wish you were here!_

Peter sighed heavily, and thought his heart would stop a moment later when he saw Edmund's eyelids flutter, then slowly open like flowers greeting the Sun. The yawn he made was the picture of childish innocence, as was the smile that played on his lips.

"'Morning, Pete," he murmured, his hand reaching out to slip around his brother's waist.

"Good morning, Ed," he answered in a soft voice, and something in the timbre made Edmund observe him more closely. He saw an unspeakable sadness there (and, though he did not recognise it immediately, guilt) which made him uneasy.

"What's the matter, Pete? Didn't you sleep well?" he asked, wondering why his brother was staring at him with such a somber countenance. He could feel the bees beginning to buzz in his stomach again, and somehow they seemed to be connected to the deep, throbbing ache in a much lower part of his anatomy.

"Oh, I slept well enough, not that I should have a right to," Peter replied, gently removing Edmund's hand from his side. "I was just thinking... I need to apologise to you, Ed. I'm afraid I... I've not done right by you."

"What do you mean?" Edmund demanded, confused by his words.

"I mean that... well, I should never have touched you like... like I have. I'm not Father, and even Father never touched me like that, even when he was explaining what I needed to do, and... and I see now that it was wrong."

"Why? What are you talking about?" Edmund asked, looking alarmed.

Peter closed his eyes for a brief moment, praying for strength and wisdom, before elaborating.

"Edmund, what happens with our bodies is... very special. I told you it's for making babies, right? Well, think of how important and how... how **miraculous** that is, that you can create a new life someday! With your wife, of course... So, what you do in preparation for that is also... special. It's not something I should have helped you with. It's private, and something that you should keep to yourself until you find the right girl, get married, and... and are ready to share absolutely **everything** with her."

Edmund listened to this with growing horror, not wanting to believe his ears. Had he known how deeply it pained Peter to think of his brother growing up and falling in love with someone else, it might have alleviated some of his consternation, but he did not.

"Peter," he gasped, hardly daring to breathe, "what are you saying? That I... I can't even help you with... with what you need? Even when your hand is hurt?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Ed," Peter answered, seeming to rip out a piece of his heart with each word. "It's not something we ought to do, even if we're brothers. No, actually," he corrected, "**especially** because we're brothers! You know it's wrong to marry your own sister, right?"

"Well, sure," Edmund said, his brow still furrowed with concern. "You can't have kids with your own family, 'cause then all the bad traits get stronger. It's in Mendel's Law or whatever. That's why the Dryads make sure the fruit flowers are cross-pollinated with other trees."

Peter breathed a small sigh of relief. "Right. But if you have... well, relations, with someone who's closely related to you, that's... that's very bad. It's called 'incest' and you could get arrested for it — at least in England."

"Oh," he replied, thinking it over for a moment. Then he added, "As if anyone would **want** to marry their own sister! I mean, I like Su and Lu well enough, and they're not silly like a lot of other girls, but... that just seems **queer**."

"But don't you see, Ed," Peter pointed out, feeling a lump of cold lead forming in the pit of his stomach, "that's exactly what's been happening to **us**. We're close — probably closer than most brothers, having gone through so much together — and it was just too easy for us to forget what we should and shouldn't do. **I'm** the one to blame for that, since I didn't set the boundaries right from the start, and with not many grown-ups around (or at least Human ones, anyway) how were you to know? So, I'm sorry that I let it get so far out of hand, but... this has simply got to stop."

Edmund felt as though he were being suffocated. The covers were too heavy, the air was too thick to breathe, and he could barely keep his eyes focused on his brother who was looking at him, expectantly and hopefully, from only a few inches away. He grabbed at Peter's bandaged hand and clung to it with both his own as the room seemed to start spinning out of control.

"Peter... you can't mean..." he began, but words failed him. He could not express all that he was feeling, when so much of it he could not decipher himself.

A knock came on their bedroom door and was almost immediately followed by Mr. Tumnus walking into the room.

"Ah... Good morning, your Majesties," he said, taking in at a glance that the two young kings were both in one bed again and (more surprisingly) were both awake. "The skies of Archenland have favoured us with another beautiful day!"

"Indeed, our welcome here has been unparalleled," Peter responded with some difficulty. Edmund was still trying to wrap his mind around what his brother had just pronounced.

"Shall I stay and assist you, King Peter? Perhaps an extra pair of hands can help you prepare more quickly?"

"That would be most welcome, Mr. Tumnus — thank you."

"Peter," Edmund whispered, still reeling in shock. His brother looked down on him with tenderness and sadness.

"We'll talk more about this later, if you want," he told him, gently removing his hand from the younger boy's grip. "Please, Ed, I need you to understand... it's all for the best."

Edmund knew that Peter wanted him to agree, or to at least nod in assent, but could not bring himself to do it. Instead, he found tears spilling out of his eyes as his beloved Peter became lost in a blurry, uncertain world.

"Ed... Oh, Edmund, I'm so sorry," he heard him say, and felt the bandaged hand (still warm and comforting even with the cloth) stroke his hair with proffered comfort. Peter was trying to be discreet, not wanting to embarrass him in front of Mr. Tumnus, but Edmund was beyond caring for such things.

"Is... anything... the matter, your Majesty?" the Faun asked hesitantly, sensing that he was intruding.

"Well... yes. I'm afraid it's a... private matter," Peter informed him, his voice hitching at the fateful word. "I've upset my brother with some... rather unfortunate news. Please excuse us for a moment."

"Ah! Of course. I shall be back in... a few minutes," he said, retreating from the room.

Once the door was closed, Peter bent to cradle his brother in his arms, trying (with difficulty) not to burst into tears himself, for to see Edmund anguished was almost more than he could bear.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... It's not your fault, Ed, I should've known... I should've stopped it sooner..." he murmured. And then, wondering at his brother's somewhat excessive reaction, he begged, "Please, Ed, don't be upset. I'm sorry that I didn't make things clearer for you, but I just assumed... well, that you would figure out this sort of thing on your own. I'd forgotten that you **couldn't**, since there aren't a lot of people around us... Please don't be angry with me!"

Edmund hiccoughed as he clutched at Peter's nightshirt.

"I—I'm not... **angry**," he managed, "I just... I don't... **understand!**"

"We can talk about this more later," Peter repeated, rubbing his brother's back in what he hoped was a comforting way. "I know it's hard to take in all at once. But, look here, Ed — it's not like it was something we did often, anyway. I mean, we just got a little carried away yesterday, what with my hand being hurt and all, and... well, you didn't know any better, which was my fault. Please, Edmund... do be reasonable."

His younger brother swallowed hard and looked up at him, tears still glistening in his dark eyes.

"But Peter... I thought you **liked** what I did!"

It was as though he had been stabbed in the heart with an ice pick. Peter gasped as Edmund fixed his imploring eyes upon him.

"I—I did. I'll admit it, Ed, I **did** enjoy it," Peter was compelled to answer. He dared not confess as to **why** he had enjoyed it so much, for that was a burden which he and he alone must bear. "But it was wrong of me! I shouldn't have let you do it at all. I... I was selfish, and I wasn't thinking straight. I'm sorry. Please don't think it was your fault at all, because it wasn't."

For a long moment, Edmund held him in his liquid gaze, contemplating what all of this meant. He could not come to a conclusion, of course, for it was a convoluted and confusing matter to him, but he finally nodded and took a deep breath.

"I... I think I see what you're saying," he said slowly, sniffing and drying his cheeks with the sleeve of his nightshirt. "I'm not sure why, exactly, but... I guess it's stupid to cry about it. I just thought... I must've done something wrong..."

"**NO!** Of course not! **I** was in the wrong, Ed, not you," Peter hurried to affirm.

"But... so... I can't touch you like that again? Ever?"

"No. It's not right. It... It was nice of you to offer, but I should've never accepted it."

"And... you can't touch me like that, either?"

"No. I'm sorry, Ed, but... well, it's not like **your** hands were hurt..."

"Then why did you do it?"

It was a simple enough question, but it left Peter gaping, at a loss for words.

"I... I guess... I wanted to even the score," he finally said, feeling even guiltier than before due to the new falsehood and not even sure how well it would hold up to his brother's scrutiny. "You'd done it for me twice, so... it was my turn."

"Oh," was all Edmund said. He didn't know why he felt so disappointed, except that the delight of being pleasured by Peter's hand was now become a thing of the past. Sensing that he was on the verge of tears again, he swallowed and got up.

"Are you all right?" Peter asked him, his face worried. Edmund considered the question, then pulled off his nightshirt roughly.

"No. But we have to get ready for breakfast, and we don't want to be late again, do we?" he retorted.

"No, we don't... I'm sorry."

Edmund turned to look back at his brother, little suspecting that the sight of his lithe, bare torso nearly made Peter retract all that he had said heretofore.

"I **will** need to talk about this again," he declared, wanting Peter to understand that he was not yet fully convinced. "I need to think about it for a while, but... when we have the time, and can really **talk**, I want you to explain it to me all again."

"All right," Peter agreed.

There was another knock on the door.

"Come in," the High King answered, while King Edmund began washing his tear-stained face in a basin.

* * *

A/N: Aslan's roar at the beginning of this chapter may have been a warning from the Lion himself, or a figment of Peter's guilt-ridden conscience.


	16. A Chat with Mrs Dumplesugar

My Fair Brother

* * *

Edmund could not help but be distracted that day, for he had much on his mind. He cheered when Susan did well in the little archery competition in the courtyard, held under the auspices of their ever-thoughtful host, King Lune; he clapped when the Dwarfs, Borglun and Dursolt, performed a friendly boxing match to entertain the Archenlandian court; and he even finished his sword-fighting match with Darian from two days prior, although he had not quite the same heart in it as before. It may have been attributed to the fact that Prince Corin was bound (literally) to a chair upon his father's grim-faced orders, sobbing for the duration of the match, but Edmund hardly noticed the boy until afterwards.

Peter watched him with a mixture of pride, love, and overwhelming guilt, blaming himself for each ill-fended blow and missed opportunity, knowing that their conversation of the morning had cast his brother into confusion. No doubt it had affected his skill and concentration, but there was no remedy for it now. What the High King did not understand was why, even though he had done his level best to rectify the situation, he felt none the better for it now. Surely, upholding virtue ought to have brought some sense of relief; but on the contrary, he felt miserable for having upset his darling Edmund, while his own guilt had not been assuaged at all. His only comfort came in the form of Lucy, who (sensing her oldest brother's melancholy) had perched herself on his knee as she would at home, much to the amusement and delight of the courtiers and ladies, who were charmed to see how attached the two siblings were.

When Edmund had fulfilled what was required of his honour with Darian and caught his breath, he offered to play with Corin again; for he realised that while he was sparring with the knight, he had not had the time to think of anything else, and the escape of physical activity seemed far preferable to the brooding tumult of his mind. He had seen Peter's hands wrapped protectively around Lucy, and for the first time had sensed an irrational surge of anger towards his sister. He had been denied the comfort of his brother's hands (although in truth, Peter had never said that he could not hold him in such an innocent way) with the closeness of their blood relation as one of the reasons, but their sister sat there enjoying what Edmund so longed for himself. He wished to clear his head with activity, and Prince Corin — having just been released from his chair — was more than willing to provide it.

Then it was time for their noon repast, and Edmund chose to sit with Corin, Mrs. Dumplesugar, and Per at the low table set out especially for them, rather than at the high table with Peter and his sisters. However, his vacated seat was offered to Lady Avenel, the slim, dark-haired girl with whom Peter had danced the other day. Edmund kept stealing glimpses of her — or rather, of Peter, who spoke courteously to her as well as to the Lady Verinia on his other side. The hornets returned to torment Edmund and he could not eat much of the food set before him, as delicious as it was. In fact, he thought he might become sick if he forced himself, and soon lay aside his fork.

"Is anything the matter, your Majesty?" Per asked, noticing his unease.

"No. I'm just... not hungry," Edmund replied lamely, playing with his napkin.

"Not hungry!" Mrs. Dumplesugar exclaimed, black eyes opened wide. "A cub of your age, after so much exercise, not hungry? Eh, King Edmund, there must be **something** the matter!"

"Please don't make a fuss," he whispered, hoping nobody else had heard her. "It's nothing, I'm sure. I just... I haven't been feeling myself today."

"I know what will set you to rights," she responded in a low tone to match his. "Some weak tea with honey and lemon. Worked wonders on my late husband, whenever **he** was out of sorts!"

"I'll have some brought right away," Per said, jumping up to catch one of the kitchen maids before Edmund could stop him. It was prepared and presented to him with equal alacrity and, sipping the steaming-hot liquid, the young king had to admit that it was rather soothing. He still was not able to swallow any more of his food, though, and gave his dessert to an astounded and grateful Per.

After the meal, Prince Corin was taken up to his room for a nap (with much protesting, of course) and Per retired to catch a few much-needed winks himself. Edmund, not wanting to rejoin his siblings, headed out with as much nonchalance as he could muster to stroll the ramparts. He had not gone far when he heard the patter of small feet behind him.

"Eh, King Edmund! Your legs carry you much faster than mine," Mrs. Dumplesugar said, panting to catch up to him. "You've grown like a wild weed this past year!"

"I suppose so," he responded, wondering why (though not with annoyance) she had chased after him. The Raccoon clambered up the lower stone wall on the inside of the ramparts and walked deftly along the top, bringing her almost eye-to-eye with Edmund.

"Now, my dear Majesty," she began in a confiding tone, "I know that something's bothering you for you to hardly touch your vittles! And I couldn't help noticing — a-begging your pardon, of course — that your eyes kept straying to a certain Daughter of Eve with pretty brown hair."

Edmund scowled without realising it. "It's not what you think, Mrs. Dumplesugar," he retorted, walking a little faster, though not so fast as to leave his companion behind.

"Ah! My wise young King knows what I'm thinking, does he?" she chuckled, making him turn to her sharply. "I can tell well enough that you've no interest in **her**, bless your precious heart — not when you're glaring daggers at her! And at the lovely Lady Verinia, too, since almost the moment we arrived."

"I don't like her," Edmund declared, in a low voice so that the soldiers guarding the wall could not overhear him. "She reminds me of the White Witch. And the other girl, too — she laughs at everything Peter says, when he jolly well can't be **that** amusing all the time..."

Mrs. Dumplesugar nodded with a knowing look. "Of course, they're both trying to be as amiable and pleasing as they can. And why shouldn't they? Your royal brother is not only the High King of Narnia and a respected Knight, but also quite the handsome catch, isn't he? Not to mention a marvelous gentleman."

Edmund bit his lip for a moment, for though he could hardly deny that what she had said was true, the hornets in his stomach were stinging him with a vengeance, paining him so much that he was forced to halt and grab the wall to support himself.

"Ah, my poor, dear, King Edmund," the Raccoon murmured, laying one hand on his shoulder and patting his arm with the other. "I see how it is. Your brother is growing up into a Man, getting ready to make his nest with a mate, and you're feeling left behind. It happened with my own Timmy... He was the runt of the litter, poor boy, and lame to boot; but when they were all kits, his oldest brother Johnny would carry him on his back so that he wouldn't be left out of their games. And you know with us Beasts, each litter grows up at pretty much the same time, and they all find their mates and leave at the same time, too. But with Timmy being lame, he felt he couldn't ask the girl he fancied to be his mate, and watched all his brothers and sisters leave our home, with nobody to love for himself. Eh, that was a sad time..." Mrs. Dumplesugar sniffed, and sat down upon the wall. "If it hadn't been for Betsy, the youngest of our neighbours' cousin's litter the next year, I don't know what wouldahsve become of Timmy. But Betsy came along, and she was just a bitty little thing — we called her Bitsy Betsy, wouldn't you know — and tenderhearted and sweet, and just adored my Timmy. For he was always very clever with his paws, and could fix anything like new, he could, and so he asked her and she accepted and they made their nest together the next year. I just saw their newest litter born this spring, and not a single one of them is lame, thank Aslan, even if they **are** a bit on the small side, but that's no matter..."

Edmund politely listened to her rambling, but his thoughts were racing miles away.

_Am I afraid of being left behind by Peter?_ he wondered._ Is that why I don't like those girls — because one of them could take him away? I suppose it's true that I don't much care for the thought of Peter getting married..._ An added pang in his stomach hinted that he disliked the thought much more than he cared to admit. _But what does it matter?_ he demanded fiercely and bitterly of himself. _Peter doesn't want to touch me because he thinks it's wrong. If he's not going to care about me anymore, what difference does it make if he marries some girl?_

The pain that hit him next nearly doubled him over, spreading out from his stomach into his chest and even weakening his limbs. If he hadn't been clutching the wall already, he might have fallen; as it was, he sank down beside it to his knees, burying his face in his arms.  
"There now, there now," Mrs. Dumplesugar soothed, stroking his hair. "It's not the end of the world! And no matter what happens, my dear, your brother will always be your brother. He may not have as much time to spend with you as before, once he has cubs of his own, but it's not like he'll love you any less, you know!"

The hornets turned to an angry swarm, swirling in his stomach — had he eaten his lunch, he might have become truly sick at this point. But Edmund drew in a deep breath, steeling himself against the tears that threatened to spill out.

"Of course not," he said savagely. "How can he love me any less, when he loves me so little already?"

**"What!"** cried Mrs. Dumplesugar. "That's **nonsense**, my child, and you know it! There's no brother as loves his littermates as much as King Peter, and there's not one Beast in Narnia — nor Creature nor Tree, either — that doesn't know it! By the Lion's mane! Whatever on earth would possess you to **say** such a thing?"

Miserable and wretched, Edmund pressed his face against his arms, hiding the hot tears that had broken the dam.

"I don't know," he answered — and that, at least, was true. He didn't know why Peter had forbidden something that was so wonderful; he didn't know why that bothered him so and made him feel so hollow inside, leaving room only for the stinging hornets; and he didn't know why, after all the hurt that his brother had inflicted upon him, he should still be so upset at the mere thought of Peter eventually growing up and marrying.

"Boots and broomsticks! You're in a frightful state if you really think King Peter cares so little for you," the Raccoon fretted, still pawing at his hair. "Perhaps we should have a healer take a look at you... They've no Centaurs here, but maybe a Human doctor might do as well, in a pinch..."

"No! Please... Mrs. Dumplesugar," Edmund protested in alarm. "It's nothing! I'm just... I'm just out of sorts today. Please forget everything I just said! I didn't mean it..."

Seeing the tears glistening on his red-rimmed eyes, the kindly Beast regretted scolding him.

"All right, then, King Edmund — I shan't mention it to a soul. But you mustn't let yourself dwell on such thoughts! Eh, I'm sure you've a right to be melancholy at times, as much as anybody else, but if you should ever find yourself doubting your dear brother, you should try to remember how worried he was for you the other day, when Prince Corin smacked you on the head. Did you see how fast he was at your side?"

Edmund bit his lip again and nodded. Yes, Peter had been kind to him then, although Edmund felt as though all that had changed.

"And when you felt so bad, worried that you must have hurt his hand — why, **he** was the one bleeding, but he was more concerned for **you!**"

Edmund's lip quivered as he nodded again, now feeling guilty for having made such an accusation against his brother.

"Now, my good King Edmund — for I've no doubt that you **are** good, whether you're out of sorts or not," Mrs. Dumplesugar continued, "tell me truthfully: Is there a single person in all of Narnia that your brother loves more than you?"

He had opened his mouth to catch a breath just before she asked this, and before he could stop himself he'd blurted out, "Lucy."

"Ah!" The Raccoon cocked her head to the side, as though beginning to see things more clearly. "He loves her very much, which is only natural. But what makes you think he loves her **more** than you?"

"Because... well, it's obvious, isn't it? He lets her sit on his lap all the time, and lets her do anything she wants," he said, then swallowed, amazed and ashamed at how petty that had sounded even in his own ears.

"I see... and what has he refused to let **you** do?"

Edmund flushed uncomfortably at the question, and muttered, "It's... It's private. I can't talk about it — Peter said so," hoping that the very fact that he'd been forbidden to discuss the matter would work in his favour.

"Ah. Then of course you mustn't," she agreed matter-of-factly. "But really, King Edmund," and here she lightened her tone, thinking that her young charge was in need of a respite, "you're altogether too old to be wanting to sit in your brother's lap, aren't you? A big, strapping lad like you!"

She realised how badly she had misjudged him when he buried his head once more in his arms, and wept silently and bitterly.

"Oh, dear... Oh, dear, dear, dear," she murmured, stroking his hair again. "My poor, sweet child! You've grown so tall so quickly that we've all forgotten that you're scarce more than a cub! And with no mother or father here, either..."

She sat there for a long time, trying to comfort him, and thoughtfully waving off the soldiers who attempted to approach them. Although mortified by his own leaky waterworks, Edmund was honest enough to admit that it **was** comforting to have Mrs. Dumplesugar pet him, even if the reason for his distress was not exactly that he had been forbidden to sit upon his brother's lap.


	17. King Lune's Request

My Fair Brother

* * *

Peter had been kept busy entertaining the pair of young ladies during the course of the noonday meal and had not seen his brother slipping out of the courtyard. When he finally saw that the party at Prince Corin's little table had completely dispersed, he excused himself and turned to his sisters.

"I say, Lu — where's Edmund gone off to?"

"What? Oh, I don't know... He was there a minute ago. Su, have you seen Ed?"

"I think he left after Corin was taken up to his room. Maybe he's gone to freshen up?"

Peter was debating whether he should go look for Edmund when King Lune precluded it.

"My dear King Peter, I have some business to discuss with thee which... would be best accomplished in private. Perhaps in my council chambers?"

"Of course," Peter responded immediately, mindful of his manners regardless of how close he and the older king had become. "I'm at your service, Sire."

King Lune's council chambers were a comfortably-appointed set of three rooms, with a sculpted map of Archenland and its environs in one, his enormous desk and his secretary's desk in another, and a long table with enough chairs for all of his nobles in the largest room. He led Peter to a cozy pair of armchairs by the window behind his desk and poured them each a small glass of sherry.

"Before we attend to business, I must first thank you for the liberal hospitality in which you indulge us, every time we come," Peter said with his glass raised in salute. "I count it as one of the greatest joys of ruling Narnia that we can rely on such a neighbour as Archenland, and on such friends as you and your household."

"Ah, it gladdens my soul to hear it!" his host replied, and they both took a sip of their drink. "Now then," began the older king, "I trust thou hast found all of the accommodations suitable—"

"More than suitable, my Lord," Peter broke in to assure him.

"And the boy I assigned to thee and King Edmund — has he been... satisfactory?"

"Of course! We have enjoyed getting acquainted with him; Edmund especially, I think, since they are close in age. And I had meant to ask you a little favour regarding Per, now that you remind me..."

"Ask on, my friend."

"When next you come to visit us, I was hoping you might bring Per with you — perhaps on the pretext of having him keep an eye on Prince Corin. My brother has been talking to him about some of our Creatures, and he has expressed a desire to see them for himself. He is about the same age as I was when I first came to Narnia, and I think he would profit from such an exposure to different Creatures and Beasts, much as I did myself."

"I should like nothing better," King Lune beamed, his eyes twinkling warmly. "In fact, it is about his situation that I wished to speak with thee."

Peter looked at him with interest. "We have heard a little of his history... about his father being one of those who had aided Lord Bar, from Per himself. And how you have sworn your protection over him."

The older king nodded, and seemed not so merry as he had been a moment before. "Aye, I have. It shames me to admit it, but it was necessary, even in my court; for his father was none other than the knight who took my Cor in a small boat and left the ship before we could force it to surrender."

Peter drew in a sharp breath, for this certainly cast a new light on the matter. It was bad enough that Per's father had abetted the traitor; but for him to have been the very one to have escaped with the infant prince, never to be seen or heard of again, was a vile tarnish upon not only his but also his entire family's honour.

"That is indeed a dark cloud for the boy to live under," Peter replied slowly, "although I cannot help but wonder if his father had been coerced. I find it hard to believe that so many of your men would have willingly broken their oaths to you and done harm to your son. And you had told me, once before, that you found some of them had obeyed Lord Bar only under threat of harm to their families."

"Forsooth, they had. And Per himself, after the whole sorry business, wast found in a village near Bar's stronghold — a good twenty leagues from his father's house. He was sent there under the guise of fulfilling his squire's duty, but had been removed from the service of another knight (who had been well pleased with him) and for no good reason that anyone could perceive. So I think it safe to assume that he had been wrested from his place to be brought under Bar's influence, and thus his father was helpless to withstand the traitor's demands."

It was with a sigh that Peter responded, "So it seems that Lord Bar was truly wicked to the core, and well deserved his hanging. And yet it must yield some comfort — slight as it may be — that those men had not all willingly recanted their oaths of fealty to you. Perhaps they counted on you to be just, even in your anger, whereas Bar would have been cruel."

"Perhaps thou art correct, my friend," King Lune pondered, looking much older than his years, as he did whenever he spoke of his lost son. "But however we may argue for the boy's innocence, the fact is that all in my court know of his father's misdeed, and it will forever be ingrained in his repute."

"A hard bias, for one so young and full of promise," Peter remarked.

"Indeed. And it is concerning that, my good King Peter, that I wished to ask thee." King Lune hesitated, and Peter waited for him to speak, anticipating what came next. "If thou and thy kind siblings would be amenable... would it be possible to claim Per for thy court, rather than mine, where he would be free from the burden of his father's fatal mistake — for I must tell thee, that until his ill-fated departure with Bar upon that vessel, his father had served me as a tried warrior and true; and were it not for his betrayal under what (I believe) were mitigating circumstances, his loss should have been mourned with all the honour due a worthy knight. I hope for no less for his son; yea, I hope for better for the poor boy, for he has borne the indignity of his father's shame with patience and fortitude, despite his youth."

"If it were up to my judgment alone," Peter answered without hesitation, "I should be glad to have him serve in our court, for I have observed much the same attitude in him as have you. I shall present the proposal to my brother and sisters, and do my best to persuade them if necessary; although I rather doubt that they will require any argument. However, as one not far removed from him in years... I would hesitate to decide his fate without hearing his own thoughts upon the matter."

"Thou art entirely right in that. It was my hope that we could secure a place for him in your court first — perhaps as thy brother's squire or thine — before presenting him with the opportunity. Then the boy may decide as he pleases, though I would feel secure in betting my finest Pointer that he will choose to go with thee."

Peter smiled at the rhetorical wager, for King Lune was very fond of his hunting Dogs.

"You must pardon me for not betting against you, for I predict that he will choose to leave his sire's shackles behind as well," he mildly replied. "Although I daresay the Talking Dogs in my country would be happy to teach yours a few tricks, were they brought together for a hunt."

"That sounds like a most pleasant excursion!" King Lune said, brightening. "I may be tempted to bring a few on our next visit North, if it is agreeable with thee."

"All Creatures are welcome in our court, my good Sir, as you well know," Peter grinned.

###

Now that he had a legitimate reason to speak to his brother, Peter was determined to find Edmund, but Edmund was nowhere to be found. Instead, he found Susan and Queen Primela at their embroidery, chatting merrily as they worked. A few whispered words in his sister's ear were all it took to gain her approval for the plan, for once she knew of Per's father, she thought straightaway of the blot on the boy's name, and would have suggested that very thing.

Lucy was labouring at another table over a portrait of Edmund this time, for the image of him in swordfight was fresh in her memory. However, she was not happy with how it was turning out, and when Peter approached, she asked for his critique of it before he could mention anything else.

"I think you've got the angle of his arm wrong," he pointed out, peering over her shoulder. "And his sword is too close to his face — he would cut himself if he did that in battle. And you've made him a little short in the torso..."

"Perhaps you might sketch the proper outline on a new sheet, and Queen Lucy could fill in the details," the Lady Avenel suggested (for she was also drawing), hoping that King Peter might tarry with them.

"Oh, please do, Peter! I don't mind drawing in the shading and such, but I have trouble getting the proportions right," Lucy implored him.

"Well, I might not do any better at it," Peter said, complying and sitting beside his sister, "especially with this bandage, but I'll try."

"Oh! Does it hurt still?" Lady Avenel asked, horrified that she had not thought of it.

"No, not at all. It's mostly healed already, and I can probably take this off now, but since Mrs. Dumplesugar has been so kind as to dress it, I feel obliged to leave it on yet a little while."

He took Lucy's pencil (an invention that they had explained to the Dwarfs, who had then made them by the dozens, allowing the children to share them with their friends in Archenland) and paused, recalling that it had been Edmund who had dressed his wound last. While he tried to picture his brother in his mind's eye, he felt the familiar ache in his heart constricting his chest, making it difficult to breathe. But as the charcoal point slid across the paper, a most accurate representation of the younger king began to appear — for who had studied Edmund's features and beauties more than the one who loved him against all reason and propriety? The graceful, lissome curve of his limbs; the youthful energy with which he wielded both the sword and shield; the delicate, fine-boned face with eyes that seemed to take in the world entire at a glance — all formed seemingly by magic upon the flat paper, as the artist struggled with the depth of feeling that the mere remembrance of those features caused to boil up within him.

"Oooh, Peter! That looks so like him!" Lucy cried, clapping her hands in delight.

"Indeed, it looks almost as though your martial brother will step out of the drawing!" Lady Avenel agreed.

"Well, I've been on the receiving end of that sword often enough," Peter demurely replied. "I should hope I know what he looks like when he's fighting."

When he had added a few more lines, he stood up and asked Lucy to take a short walk with him, saying that she must have been sitting for quite a while. Glad for the diversion, she jumped up to go with him, her hand slipping naturally into his (the uninjured one) as they walked up the stairs to the top of the curtain wall. The Lady Avenel, not having been invited and too well-bred to force her company upon them, stayed behind and admired the High King's handiwork.

Peter informed his sister of Per's predicament, and she agreed at once that the best thing for him was to come away with them to Narnia where he could start anew.

"And I think it might be better for King Lune and Queen Primela, too," she pointed out shrewdly. "Think how awful it must be for them to be reminded of losing Prince Cor every time they see Per about the castle! I know they wouldn't mean to, but of course they can't help it. Oh, I do so hope he chooses to come!"

"I only need to find Edmund and get his approval, and then King Lune can tell Per our plans," Peter said. "I rather think he **will** come, myself, and I believe he'll make an excellent addition to our court. Plus it'll be nice for Edmund to have someone his own age to run around with. By the bye, you haven't seen Ed around recently, have you?"

"No, I haven't. I wonder where he could have gone off to?"

#

What none of his siblings knew was that Edmund had, after having a good cry under Mrs. Dumplesugar's watchful care, crept back to his room with the Raccoon silently leading the way to make sure that there were no people in the passages. For he was quite ashamed of having blubbed on the ramparts, where several of the soldiers had seen him, and was hoping desperately to avoid the word getting out (any more than it would already, anyhow) that the younger king of Narnia was a soft one.

Once cloistered in the sanctuary of his room, he washed his face and lay down, keeping the damp, cool cloth folded upon his eyelids as a remedy for their swelling. Mrs. Dumplesugar offered to stay and keep him company, but he politely declined, telling her that he needed to think.

"Well, then, I suppose I should leave you to it," she said, patting his hand where it lay listlessly on the covers. "But if you happen to start thinking nonsense like your dear brother not caring for you as he does your sisters, you must remind yourself of all he has done for you. Eh, child, there's nothing he won't do for you if it's for your good! And if you've quarreled with him over some silly thing (as I suspect you have), you'd best speak to him directly and get it out of your system. No good ever comes from harbouring resentment in your heart, and that's the truth. Take it from one who's learned the hard way!"

When she finally did leave him alone in the room, he tried to sort out all that Peter had said. He began by remembering the sound of his voice and the look of misery on his face when he had made the terrible pronouncement that morning. The fact that Peter **had** been miserable had almost slipped Edmund's mind as he foundered in his own torment, and was a good thing for him to remember.

"He said he'd enjoyed what I did... that it felt better the second time, even," he mumbled to himself. "So maybe... maybe it's just as hard for Peter to give up doing that, as it is for me..."

Although the reasons which his older brother had given for why their actions had been wrong were still unclear to him, it gave Edmund some comfort to know that it was a sacrifice for Peter, also.


	18. A Brotherly Conversation

My Fair Brother

* * *

When Mrs. Dumplesugar made her way out to the courtyard, she saw that the irascible little prince had not yet come back from his nap, and was about to retreat to the comfort of the servants' areas in the back of the castle. However, Peter and Lucy were just returning from their stroll, arm-in-arm, and caught up to her before she had quite disappeared.

"Mrs. Dumplesugar, have you seen Edmund?" Lucy asked.

"I have indeed, your Majesty," the Raccoon replied with a nod. "He's not feeling his best, I'm afraid, and I've just left him resting in his room."

"Oh!" Peter gasped as though he'd been hit. "Is he... Is he all right?"

"Not to worry, your Highness — he's a little out of sorts, that's all. No doubt all this activity has gotten the better of him," she said soothingly. "He was too excited from dueling this morning to eat his lunch properly and it must have weakened him. He said he wanted to rest where it was quiet, so I made sure that he was comfortable — although I daresay he might be glad for a little company, especially from his brother."

She looked hard at Peter as she said this, as if trying to convey something without coming out and actually saying it, and Peter wondered (with a sinking feeling) how much she truly knew.

"I'll go to him at once," he responded, patting Lucy's arm to get her to release him. "I need to speak with him on another matter, anyway."

"Shall I come with you?" his sister suggested.

"No — no need to make a fuss and make our hosts worry. With any luck Ed will be well enough to rejoin us for dinner."

"I should hope so! It's our last evening here," Lucy pointed out with some regret. Peter had not meant to be rude in walking away while she was still talking, but he was anxious to see what the matter was with his brother.

"Eh, my sweet Queen, you mustn't fret and let on that something is wrong," Mrs. Dumplesugar advised. "And I've a hunch that the High King will know how to set King Edmund to rights. Some things, you know, are best left up to the menfolk. Not many, but a few."

###

Peter strode quickly down the hall leading away from the courtyard, trotted towards the tower with the private chambers, then took the steps two at a time as he mounted four flights of stairs to their floor, and by the time he was in the corridor outside of their room he was in a flat-out run. How much of their previous conversation (and actions) Mrs. Dumplesugar knew became increasingly irrelevant as he reflected on the fact that she did know **some**thing, and that she had pointedly hinted at him to go to his brother. He burst into their room, expecting the worst.

Meanwhile, Edmund had begun to doze off in the stillness of the afternoon, his eyes covered with the damp cloth, but he stirred when the door was flung open.

"Ed?" Peter asked softly, not wanting to wake him if he were sleeping, but his brother's arms moved as he approached. "Are you all right?"

"Peter? Where are you?" Edmund asked in some confusion, groping as though searching for his way in darkness.

"I'm right here," Peter answered, sitting down beside him on the edge of the bed and lifting the cloth from over his eyes. Edmund blinked as he focused on his older brother, who was looking down at him with a face filled with worry.

"Oh! Oh, that — I forgot about it," he mumbled and blushed in embarrassment, then turned a deeper red upon remembering why he had needed the cool cloth in the first place. From the way Peter was observing him, his swollen eyelids were no doubt betraying the reason as well.

"Ed... I'm sorry. I came as soon as I heard," Peter began while setting the cloth aside and reflexively combing his brother's hair with his fingers. "You're not... not still upset about... this morning, are you?"

"No... Yes... a little," Edmund confessed, his eyes closed to better feel how Peter's hand was petting him. Right now he didn't want to think; he just wanted to bask in the tenderness his brother was showering upon him.

"I'm sorry I put you out of sorts," Peter sighed, his own heart crushed to think that he had caused his love any grief. "I should have waited until we were home... or at least on the ship headed home, so you could've enjoyed your last day here..."

"It's all right, Peter," Edmund told him, wishing that he hadn't been caught with his eyes still red from crying. "You were only doing what you thought was best. I'm just... confused, I guess. I don't understand what you were trying to get at."

"How so?" Peter asked, now fearing that he had botched the affair so badly as to make matters worse.

"Well, you said we couldn't touch each other like that because we're family, and you can't marry within your own family, right? But, I mean... we're both **boys**, so it's not like we could marry each other to start with!"

Now it was Peter's turn to blush, as he opened his mouth to reply but no good response came to mind. It was just as well, for Edmund had not finished.

"And then this morning, Lucy was sitting on your lap (like she always does), but nobody thinks **that's** a bad thing — they actually think it's adorable! Not that I want to sit on your lap, really, since I'm too big... I wouldn't want to crush your legs, you know. But if we're supposed to be so concerned about not getting involved with our own siblings like that, shouldn't you be more careful about what you do with Lucy and Susan? Not that I'm saying you should, because I think it's all rot, but then why is it such a big deal for **us** to touch each other? We couldn't make a baby if we **tried**."

Peter continued to gape at his brother while his mind was a riot of consternation. His uninjured left hand had long ceased combing Edmund's hair, coming to rest on his knee; and, missing it, Edmund now claimed it with his own.

"Think about it, Peter," he said reasonably, playing with his brother's fingers. "If you happened to get **both** of your hands hurt and couldn't use them at all, you wouldn't ask Su or Lu to help you go to the bathroom, would you? No! You'd ask **me**. Or maybe Mr. Tumnus or someone like that. But I'm sure you'd feel more comfortable asking me, because I'm your brother. I've got the same equipment (or almost — I know I've got some catching up to do) and it wouldn't be half so embarrassing to ask me as to ask anyone else. At least that's how **I'd** feel if I were hurt. I'd come to you first, and only if you weren't around, or weren't able, would I go to someone else for help."

The matter-of-fact manner in which his younger brother made his points allowed Peter's benumbed mind to start functioning again, and also in a rational way.

"Ed... Do you think... what we did, yesterday, was the same as... going to the bathroom?" Peter managed to ask.

"What? Well, sure. It takes a bit longer, but it's got to come out eventually. You just have to move things along until it does." Edmund looked up from fidgeting with Peter's fingers to see astonishment mingled with growing comprehension in his brother's face. "Why? What are you getting at?"

"Oh, Edmund! Oh, Ed, Ed, Ed," Peter murmured, wanting to laugh and cry and tear out his hair all at once. "How could I have been so blind? And how could I have done such a poor job of explaining it all to you?"

"Explaining what?"

"Ed... what happens when we... well, when our bodies get... **excited**," he finally got out, flushing a bright red, "is a totally different thing from when, say, we have to urinate. It's... oh, great Scott! How can I even begin to explain it if you don't understand? I must've done very badly right from the beginning..."

Edmund had been gazing up at Peter from where he lay, but seeing him so frustrated in his attempt to describe this elusive concept, he sat up and flung his arms around his brother.

"It's all right, Pete," he assured him. "You don't have to do it all at one go. I don't understand it yet, but... I'll take your word for it, for now."

Peter was touched and relieved, and found his arms wrapping naturally around his brother's slim torso as well.

"Thanks, Ed... I'll try to come up with a better way to set it out for you. I just... I know what I know, but I don't know how to make you understand it, too."

Edmund nodded, his cheek rubbing against his brother's. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere... or at least, not without you."

Peter felt a smile form on his lips as he ran his hands slowly over Edmund's back.

"That's good to know."

He could feel Edmund's suppressed giggle, which sent his heart all a-flutter within him. Little did he know that there were bees buzzing within his brother as well, making the younger boy feel as though he were being tickled from the inside. For a long moment they were both comfortable in each other's arms, but neither dared to move lest it cause the other to break away.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Peter whispered after a while, still stroking his brother's spine.

"What?"

"That time... we thought you were dead. When Lucy's cordial healed you."

"Oh! You mean when the White Witch stabbed me?"

"Yes."

They stayed locked in their embrace for a minute more, each recalling the sobering events leading up to that joyful reunion.

"That hurt like billy-oh," Edmund remarked. "I thought I was a goner for sure..."  
"So did I," Peter added, squeezing his brother just as the pang of remembered fear tightened around his chest. "Even after she'd given you a drop... you went still for a second, and I thought... I thought... I was so afraid..."

Peter swallowed hard, unable to finish his sentence, and felt his brother clutch him back just as tightly.

"I'm all right, Peter! Don't let's think about what **might** have happened — there's no need to dwell on it," Edmund said, hoping to not cry again. Knowing how much his own close brush with death had affected his brother somehow made his eyes fill with tears.

Peter nodded, and realised that he could feel his brother's heartbeat against his own breast. He drew in a deep breath, expelling it equally slowly while keeping his grip on Edmund as though he would never let go. And Edmund, although he felt constricted in his brother's arms, would not have asked for release even if his bones were being crushed.

"I was so glad to hear you cough, and see your eyes open," Peter concluded. "As long as you were alive and safe... nothing else really mattered."

Edmund wondered whether his whole body had become hollow, for the bees seemed to be buzzing and tickling him everywhere now. In fact, he thought he might burst from all their humming, and was glad that his brother had such a tight hold on him.

"I guess... everything else is secondary," Peter droned on, as if to himself. "I should just be glad that you're safe and healthy... and happy, too, I hope. If you're a bit confused about... how society thinks, we'll work on it, but it's not the worst thing that could happen." Another thought occurring to him, Peter suddenly loosened his arms enough to peer into Edmund's face. "Ed... you **are** happy here, aren't you? Even though we aren't in England with your schoolmates, and Mum and Dad?"

"Of course I'm happy!" was his quick answer. "I've never been happier, to tell the truth. And why would I miss going to school? I mean, sure, I'd made a couple of friends there, but by Jove, I have so many more friends here in Narnia — and much more interesting, too!"

Relieved, Peter smiled, sending rays of warm sunshine through Edmund's soul.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," he replied and hugged his brother with unfeigned affection. "Oh! And that reminds me of something else — I need to ask you about Per."

Of course Edmund was in agreement that the boy should be given the opportunity to serve in the court of Narnia, if he so chose, and hoped to take him riding to meet all the Beasts and Creatures of the Great Forest. The only question was whose squire he should be.

"Yours, I should think," Edmund said, completely content now with his brother's arms loosely clasped about him. "He's around my age, so it would be strange for him to be mine."

"I had thought of that," Peter replied, "but all the things a squire would normally do for me, the Fauns and other chaps at the castle are already doing, and I'd hate to put them out by bringing in someone new. But as you're getting older, we could say that you'll be needing someone to help you manage additional tasks — don't ask me what they'll be, for I have no idea — but it would stand to better sense, don't you think? And it might be easier for him to talk to you, since you **are** so close in age, and you would have more time to help him get used to Narnia."

"All right, then. I suppose it doesn't make that big of a difference when it comes right down to it, since he can help us both," Edmund conceded. "I just hope he'll accept the offer!"

Peter wrung out the cloth again in the basin to cool it, settling his brother comfortably back down on the bed the way he had found him, before heading out to inform King Lune of their collective decision.

###

When Edmund rejoined the party in the courtyard later that afternoon, as the final banquet was being prepared, their host summoned Per to their little circle and told him that the younger king of Narnia was in need of a squire and had offered the post to him. Stunned, the boy could barely stammer his thanks.

"Oh, good! So you'll come, then?" Edmund asked him directly.

"Yes, of course! I mean," here the boy faltered. "Your Majesty," (addressing King Lune) "please excuse me if I sound more eager than decorous, for your kindness to me has exceeded all that anyone could expect — especially such a one as I..."

None of them had breathed so much as a word about his father, and yet Per himself could not help but be mindful of it.

"However, I must confess, your Majesties," he continued, "ever since I met Mr. Tumnus and Mrs. Dumplesugar, I've longed to see what other wondrous Creatures there might be in the North, and this seems like a dream — like the best of dreams coming to life!"

So with that being settled, the farewell banquet for the Narnian envoy began with great celebration and lasted long into the night.


	19. DELETED Of Strawberry Cordial and Tarts

This chapter was not in compliance with FanFiction dot net's content policy and has been deleted. Please read this story in its entirety at my new website, TheaNishimori dot WordPress dot com.


	20. The Voyage Home

My Fair Brother

* * *

The Narnians had enjoyed their walk up to Anvard on their way in, and walking back would have been even easier since it was mostly downhill, but King Lune would not hear of his guests going on foot. So after breakfast and some tearful goodbyes (for the womenfolk at least) the party was mounted on the finest Horses to be found in the castle, and King Lune himself with several of his knights escorted them to the harbour where the _Splendor Hyaline_ was anchored.

Per had not slept all night, having been too excited about his new prospects, and barraged King Edmund during their ride with questions about Narnia and his new duties. However, his Knight was still nursing a Strawberry-Cordial-induced headache and was rather dull in his answers, so King Peter hung back from the head of the group to give Per some more thorough responses. Even though the boy was still somewhat in awe of the High King, he felt a great deal more at ease after that.

The crew of their ship had not been idle during the past few days; they had been busy trading and buying things for which Archenland was famous, such as sausages and cheeses. (Their Goat cheese was considered a delicacy by Fauns, the more so because Archenlandian goatherds were kind to their Beasts, even if they were dumb, ordinary ones.) Belowdecks, every nook and cranny of the ceiling was hung with the goods they had stocked, and King Lune added several barrels of wine and rum to their cargo as a parting gift. He also insisted on treating them to an early lunch in the little harbour village, so what with one thing and another, it was well into the afternoon before they finally set sail.

Per was queasy since this was his first time on board a seafaring vessel, but Lucy persuaded Peter to let her give their new companion a whiff of her magical cordial, which was all it took to set him to rights. He soon found his sea legs and Edmund (who secretly wished that he might have sniffed the cordial as well, but was too embarrassed to confess why to his sister) roused himself to show him the ship from stem to stern. At one point the younger king led his new squire to the poop deck, where the High King was discussing their course with the captain.

"There's no need to hurry," Peter was telling Captain Meridian. "If the winds are contrary, we can beat to windward while there's still light and weigh anchor tonight. There's no sense making the men row when we won't make it home before midnight even with a strong south wind, so we may as well wait until tomorrow to arrive. I'm sure Oreius will figure out what we're doing."

"I will give the order to tack close-hauled, then, your Majesty," the older man replied, relieved that the king was not over-eager to get home.

"I say, Captain," Edmund put in before the man could walk away, "I just saw how much stuff you have in the hold now!"

"Indeed, your Majesty — the cooks at Cair Paravel charged me to fill it as much as safely possible, with a list of their desired provisions as long as my arm."

"Well, I guess we hadn't really thought of that when we invited Per to come to Narnia with us," the younger king said, looking rather pointedly at his older brother, who furrowed his brows.

"You're right, I had overlooked that," Peter admitted. "Captain, do you think there's room to hang up one more hammock?"

"I can tell you right now that there isn't," Edmund interrupted, "but don't worry; Per can sleep in my bed, and I'll just bunk with you, Peter. It's only one night, after all."

Peter opened his mouth with half a mind to object, but since Per was standing right behind Edmund, his eyes opened wide in concern, all Peter actually said was, "Oh... right. Of course."

"There's no need for that, your Majesties," the captain protested. "I'm sure we could move a few things around and... er... squeeze the lad in, even if it might be a bit... snug."

Edmund shook his head with a laugh.

"Oh, don't worry, Captain! We don't mind — and besides, I can't imagine how you could fit one more strand of sausages, let alone a whole hammock! It's our own fault that we didn't think of how loaded the ship would be, and anyhow, we sleep back-to-back all the time when we go to the wars, so it's no bother at all."

Peter could not help but agree to that, but as Edmund dragged Per away to climb up to the crow's nest, the High King thought he saw a look of triumph on his brother's face.

###

That night they weighed anchor at a little bay, hoping for better winds in the morning, and most of the crew turned in early. Lucy and Mr. Tumnus wanted to finish their game of chess, so Peter kept them company; however, after the game was over and the two had retired to their respective cabins, Peter remained on deck, sitting with his back against a barrel. He gazed beyond the mast at the stars that formed The Hammer.

He wasn't sure what Edmund had meant by manoeuvering him into sharing a bed again, or even if he had actually seen him smirk at his success. Perhaps it had simply been the most practical way of settling Per into the ship, nothing more; but if Edmund had deliberately used circumstances to this end, what was his purpose? Peter bit his lip, wondering if his brother had noticed the effect his presence had upon him, and might have contrived to tease him in this manner.

_Or maybe,_ he thought with a sudden jolt, _I said something in my sleep __— called his name or something —__ and he heard it! Maybe he __**knows**__ already...!_

He felt his blood run cold. If Edmund knew of his unnatural yearning for him... but no — if he had, wouldn't he avoid being at close quarters with Peter like the plague? But then, why would Edmund wish to sleep with him in the first place?

_I wonder if he's lonely, or afraid of something?_ Peter mused. _He __**has**__ been crying rather easily these last few days... What could be bothering him, though? _

He wracked his brains but could come up with nothing useful. In fact, he was so deep in thought that he did not hear the hatch open behind him nor notice the soft footfalls of bare feet upon the wood.

"Peter?" came Edmund's voice in the darkness, making him jump. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you... but aren't you coming to bed?"

"Uh... of course," he replied, feeling his heart beat like a frightened bird trapped in his throat. His brother was standing there with a blanket wrapped around him, looking strangely waif-like and younger — more vulnerable — than usual.

"You were thinking about **her** again, weren't you?" Edmund demanded, a hard edge to his tone.

"Who?" left Peter's lips before he could catch himself.

"**Her**, of course — the Mermaid."

Peter gasped as he realised what his brother was referring to.

"Um... well... yes," he lied, recovering somewhat.

Edmund sat down on the deck beside him, still shrouded in the blanket. He had lain awake in the cabin below, waiting for his brother to come down for what seemed an eternity while Per snored like a Dwarf, tired from the day's excitement. When he heard Lucy and Mr. Tumnus enter their cabins with no sign of Peter, he had brooded on what might be keeping his brother. The only reasons he could think of were, either Peter was pining for the beautiful Mermaid again, or he simply did not want to be crammed into the small berth with his little brother.

Edmund had eventually come in search of Peter, but even having the less odious of his suspicions confirmed somehow left him feeling more forlorn than before. The hornets were back, stinging his insides, and his face was wrapped in shadow as he contemplated the net-like patterns cast by the Moon shining through the rigging.

"Peter... if there were some way you could... turn into a Merman, or live under the water... would you do it?" he asked.

"What? Of course not!" Peter replied quickly. "I would never leave you and the girls, not to mention abandon Narnia! I mean... it's not like I'm the only king, of course, but what would I say to Aslan if I left my duties without a decent excuse?"

Edmund breathed a sigh of relief, audible even to his brother.

"All right. I didn't think you would, but... I didn't know, for sure."

"Ed..." Peter began, comprehension creeping into his mind, "you didn't really think... I mean, you weren't worried that I would actually **leave** Cair Paravel, were you? To go chasing after some Mermaid?"

The pause before Edmund responded was answer enough.

"I hoped you wouldn't. Or that there wouldn't be a way you could," he finally said in a low voice.

"Oh, Edmund!" Peter cried, heartbroken. "How could you? Well, all right — I've been mooning around long enough that I can't blame you for worrying if I've gone queer in the head, but... I would **never** leave you — and Lu and Su — for some... Mermaid, or girl, no matter how pretty she might be!"

Edmund looked up at last to gaze into his brother's eyes.

"You mean that? Honestly?" he asked in a whisper.

"Of course I do," Peter told him, placing an arm around his slender shoulders. He was mesmerised for a moment by the starlight reflected in Edmund's dark eyes. Swallowing as he reminded himself that this was his **brother**, Peter patted him in what he hoped was a brotherly gesture. "I should think you would know me well enough by now, Ed! I'd never just take off and leave you all in the lurch."

Abashed, Edmund played with a corner of the blanket.

"I'm sorry. I was just... worried."

"All right. But you **do** know that there's no reason to be, don't you?"

Edmund nodded, feeling the stinging of the hornets settle down into the more manageable hum of the bees swirling in his stomach.

"Ed..." Peter groped for the right words. "Has this been bothering you? I mean... no offense, but you haven't seemed quite yourself lately..."

Edmund continued to twist the blanket around his finger.

"Well... maybe..." he admitted. The truth was, he had not really considered what had been eating away at him or why he kept feeling these strange and novel sensations (partly because he hadn't had the time), but now that this possibility was presented to him, it seemed as likely a reason as not.

"Oh, Edmund..." Peter murmured, feeling awful. He had not disabused his brother nor the others of the notion that he was in love with a Mermaid because he had figured that such a creature — who was both Human enough to be the object of his love as well as alien enough to be an impossible match — was as good an approximation for his brother, who was also unattainable and far more inadmissible. However, he had not foreseen that Edmund might become distressed about the possibility of his leaving in pursuit of said object.

With one arm still wrapped around his brother's shoulder, Peter braced himself for what he was about to do.

"Ed... I need to confess something to you," he began, his expression grim.

"What?" Edmund asked, anxiety tensing his body as he feared that something unpleasant was forthcoming.

"There is no Mermaid," Peter very clearly stated.

"Wh—What do you mean? I saw her as clear as day — you saw her yourself!" Edmund responded, confused.

"No, I mean... I was never in love with any Mermaid," Peter clarified. "That day, when I told you that I was in love with someone, I teased you about the Mermaid because she was rather fresh in my mind. Then you just assumed that she was the one I had fallen for."

Edmund stared at his brother with his mouth agape as he began to grasp what he was saying.

"I'm sorry — I didn't deny it, and let you believe it was her," Peter apologised, feeling worse than his brother could have known. "I deliberately misled you, even though it was by saying nothing. It was simply easier than telling you the truth."

Edmund remained silent for a whole minute, during which time Peter grew increasingly uncomfortable but had the sense not to make matters worse by talking more.

"So... who is it?" the younger boy demanded at last.

"I can't tell you," Peter answered with a sinking heart. "Please don't ask me, Ed, for I really can't. I... I vowed I wouldn't tell a soul. This is a secret that I must take to the grave."

Edmund lapsed into silence again, pondering this new turn of events as the hornets returned to torment him.

"It's because I told the girls and Mr. Tumnus that first time, isn't it," he said flatly, his voice as dark as his shadowed, downcast face. "I knew I shouldn't've... at least, not without your permission, but—"

"Edmund! **NO!**" Peter denied with vehemence. "That's not it at all! I know you can keep a secret, and that you wouldn't tell a soul if I asked you not to. It's just... It's very private, and... oh, bother! I don't even know how to explain it," he said in frustration.

"It's all right," Edmund said in a tone that belied his words. "I get it. I'm too young to understand, a—and you're afraid I might let it slip again—"

"**No!** That's not true! Oh, Ed..." Peter slapped his head with his free hand, shut his eyes, and thought furiously. "All right, think about it this way: If I told you who it is, how would you feel about that person?"

"I don't know... It would depend on the person, I guess."

"Yes, but... you would know that this person was causing me pain — through no fault of their own, of course, but still. Wouldn't that make you feel... I don't know, maybe a bit angry, or resentful, that they couldn't do anything about it? For my sake?"

Edmund considered this for a moment before conceding, "Yes. I suppose so."

"And so it would do more harm than good," Peter pressed his point, relieved, "if I were to tell you. So you see why I can't so much as hint at who it might be."

Edmund slowly nodded. "Yes. And it must be someone I know, so even a hint might help me work out who it is."

"Well... yes," Peter confirmed. "But it's not because I don't trust you to keep quiet about it, all right? I just... I don't want to burden you with the knowledge." This much, at least, was entirely true, even though a greater motive for him was not wanting to face the horror and disgust of his beloved, which would surely follow.

"All right," Edmund sighed, and meant it this time. "I wish I could help you somehow... but I understand why you don't want to tell me."

"Oh, Ed," Peter said, pulling his brother into a rough hug. "You **are** helping me, by keeping me company and... by caring. You probably can't fathom how much of a comfort it is, just to know that you care about my ridiculous infatuation."

"Of course I do!" Edmund declared indignantly. "I want you to be happy, Pete! But I... well, I don't jolly well want you to go live under the sea, or anything like that, you know... but I **do** care if you're sad or down."

His slender arms had wound their way about his stockier brother and Peter, in turn, had clasped Edmund even closer.

"Thanks," he mumbled, then pressed his lips briefly to his brother's head. Edmund felt a warmth spread from deep within his breast, lulling the bees into a lethargy so that they only tickled the insides of his stomach. Peter, however, was having his heart squeezed like an orange, bleeding drops of pain and yearning as he held his brother in his arms — so near, yet so unobtainable.

"I suppose we should get to bed," he said regretfully as he pulled away. Edmund agreed and stood up, still draped in the blanket in lieu of a bathrobe. They slipped down the stairs and into their cabin (Edmund taking care not to trip on the blanket) where Per was fast asleep. It was not long before the two brothers joined him in slumber, Edmund nestled tightly against Peter's chest.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry for the long delay in posting. I've been glued to the news for the past few days since I grew up in Fukushima, Japan, not 50 miles from the nuclear reactor. I have friends who have been affected by the earthquake and tsunami. If you are willing and able, please help out by donating to the Red Cross and say a prayer for those who have lost their loved ones.


	21. Per Meets the Talking Horses

My Fair Brother

* * *

The next day they sailed uneventfully to the quay by Cair Paravel, arriving a little before the noon hour to be greeted by a gathering of their people — mostly Talking Beasts and Centaurs — who had seen the ship approaching. Per's eyes grew as wide as saucers, trying to take in all of the furry, leafy, and fantastical beings of the Narnian court, who welcomed him warmly and chattered to their kings and queens about what had been going on in their absence.

King Edmund promised to show Per the castle from top to bottom, "But first," he said, after they had finished their lunch in the great hall, "we must go see Phillip."

"Who... or what, is he?" Per asked with some trepidation.

"My Horse — or at least, he lets me ride him," Edmund amended. "He's one of my best friends, too."

He led them through the kitchens and down a back stairway to the cellars, where it was cold enough to make Per shiver. Edmund told him to select some apples from one of the many crates stored there, looking for ones that were unbruised and still more or less plump despite having been picked the autumn before. Then they headed out the west side of the castle, through the massive stone gatehouse, and left the path to cut across a field. Edmund had shown Per how to tuck the apples inside his tunic so that they could run down the gently sloping field, shouting in glee as they leapt over patches of fragrant clover. The boys hardly slowed when they entered the edge of the Great Forest.

"Not far now," Edmund said after they had made their way through the trees for a few minutes. Presently they emerged in a green meadow where a number of Horses were grazing and sunning themselves.

"King Edmund!" cried one of them with a startled snort, and trotted over. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon! Sallowpad said you would probably put off leaving Archenland since the winds were unfavorable yesterday."

"They were, but we tacked further off-shore," Edmund explained. "We had a manageable east wind today." He saw the great chestnut Beast eyeing Per curiously and grinned. "This is Per, my new squire from Archenland. Per, this is Phillip."

"H—How do you do," Per said, trying without success not to let his nerves show. He was comfortable enough around normal horses, but had never met a Talking Horse before.

"Pleased to meet you," Phillip replied with a smile (though of course Per had not yet learned to read a Horse's expressions). "No offense, but you seem to be a bit lumpy, yourself. Perhaps if you divested yourself of those apples, you wouldn't look like a Sow who's been nursing a litter."

The boys looked down at their tunics, and Edmund began laughing at the apt analogy, for the apples were lined up like so many teats down their fronts.

"You should be glad we had very **large** litters," he told the Horse, while pulling out the apples. "We brought enough for everybody, I think."

The other Horses had been hanging back politely, letting the king greet his friend first, but drew nearer with whinnied welcomes as Edmund passed out the apples one by one. Per supplied him with his when he ran out, watching in awe as the young king spoke to each of the Horses by name and inquired after those not present as well.

"We had a lovely time, thank you," Edmund answered one roan mare. "King Lune was as jolly as ever, and Prince Corin as much of a scalawag as ever!"

That was met with a chorus of neighs which Per realised was Horsy laughter. When everybody had gotten an apple and moved off to graze again, Edmund clambered up onto the low-hanging limb of a tree that allowed him to speak to Phillip eye-to-eye, and munched on an apple as well. Per noted that the king had kept the most shriveled one for himself, leaving Per with two slightly wrinkled ones, and the boy sat on the grass and nibbled on the fruit, which had gone soft but was still sweet.

"...and all of a sudden, I turned and there was Peter on the ground, having flung himself in front of the little stinker to keep him from getting caught in the face by my backswing, while Corin himself never knew what danger he was in and started beating on me with the wooden sword we'd given him, if you please! But of course King Lune would have none of that, and roared like a Bear woken out of his winter sleep. I almost felt sorry for Corin, for his father actually had him tied up when I finished my bout with Darian a few days later. But it sure gave me a turn when Lu shrieked and pointed out that Peter's hand was dripping blood!"

After catching Phillip up on their adventures in Archenland, Edmund climbed down and made ready to leave.

"Excuse me, Sir," Per ventured, holding out the last apple to Phillip, "but if you would like..."

"How thoughtful of you," the good Horse said, daintily plucking it out of the boy's trembling hand. "Of course, at this rate I shall become as fat as a Pony, but I **am** fond of apples. And you needn't call me 'Sir,' Son of Adam — but let us be friends."

"I say," Edmund put in, a thought having just occurred to him, "in our world a squire is supposed to take care of the knight's Horse, too, but I don't suppose you really need caring for, do you?"

"There's always the saddle and gear," Phillip pointed out. "I can't very well put them on myself! And if you're any good with a curry-comb, I could use a good brushing every so often — before any festivities at court, you know, such as tourneys and feasts."

"I do know how to care for regular Horses," Per replied, "but please, your Majesty, I don't know where the stables are."

"We'll go by the stables, then, on our way in," Edmund assured him. "Our Horses are free to come and go as they please, so they only use the stables when it's cold or wet out."

"And I'll come in when there's something a-hoof, like quintain practice," Phillip added, "so you can saddle me for it. There are Fauns and Dwarfs in charge of the royal stables, but I'm sure they won't mind giving up the honour of a-dressing me."

Per had been watching the Horse's expressions while Edmund had talked to him, and thought he saw Phillip's large lips curving humourously, belying his dry words.

"Then the pleasure will be mine," the new squire said with an answering smile. He was beginning to feel more comfortable about his future in Narnia, now that he was learning what some of his duties would be.

###

They were met by a sleek Panther as soon as they entered the castle courtyard, having finished their tour of the empty (and very clean) stables.

"Hullo, Elsa!" Edmund called. "Your fur is looking especially glossy today. Have you been out hunting?"

"Indeed I have, your Majesty," the great black cat purred. "My cousin invited me for a visit, south and west of the Shuddering Wood. They have such an infestation of rodents there, in the rocky hills, although I daresay we two made a dent in the population."

Edmund said in an aside to Per, "Not the Talking kind, of course."

"Oh. Of course," Per responded, and then Edmund introduced him to Elsa.

"Mrs. Dumplesugar asked me to watch for your return," she told the king. "She wished to ask you which room Master Per shall have. She will have his linens brought up when you have decided."

"Oh! Right. Bless her for reminding me," Edmund said fervently. "Thank you, Elsa — I'll see to it right now."

And so they headed up several flights of stairs and to the east side of the castle where the royal children's quarters were. Their trunks had already been brought up for them and were waiting in the hall to be unpacked and put away; Edmund pulled his into his room before Per could help him.

"So this is my room, and the next one over is Peter's. Next to that is what we call our 'den' — although it's more like a proper parlour than not, but it's cozy, and it's where we gather to play chess or read or whatever," Edmund explained. "It's also got the best views, since it looks out over the sea to the east as well as the coastline and the forest to the south. Susan's room is next to it, facing due south. It gets the most sunlight, and gets beastly hot in the summer, but she says she doesn't mind. Lucy's is next to Susan's, and she **does** mind when it gets hot, but then she uses the spare room next to mine. At least if you're facing the sea, you can get some breeze in from the balcony. Although even Su's room isn't bad since we're so high up here. Oh, and the bathroom is across the hall," — here he led Per over to show him — "so you don't have to carry a tub into our rooms every night."

Per's eyes grew wide as he took in the large marble bath, almost big enough to swim in, while Edmund demonstrated how the water was hauled up by an efficient system of pulleys and heated over the large fireplace along one wall.

"On the other side of this wall is the Sick Room — we figured it would be the warmest and most comfortable place to go when you're feeling out of sorts. Susan holes up in there whenever she gets a bad headache, since the sunlight does bother her then," Edmund continued, leading the way back out into the hall. "Anyway, like I was saying, Lucy uses this room in the summer," opening the door to show Per a quick glance inside, "so we'll have to leave that open, at least for now; but what about this one?"

Edmund threw open the next door to reveal a room with few furnishings (only a bare bed and a chair in the corner) yet every bit as spacious as his own — in fact, it felt even larger because it had so very little in it. But what drew Per in to stand breathlessly next to his new king in amazement was the view of the ocean that filled most of the opposite wall. For this room also had a door to the balcony, flanked by two windows of equal size (although each pane was small, your eyes soon learned to disregard the crisscrossing lines of the frames) that allowed the scenery to be a sort of picture, taking up nearly the full wall on that side.

"Oh!" Per whispered, unable to find adequate words.

"Do you like it?" Edmund asked with a grin, although sure of the answer.

"I... c—can't believe... Are you c—certain, your H—Highness?" Per stammered.

"Of course! I'm going to need you somewhere close at hand, and if Lucy hadn't already moved so much of her things into the room next to mine, I would have suggested that one. We'll see if she can't be persuaded to give it up; but in the meanwhile, you can use this one. If you like."

That last bit he tacked on to tease Per, who was still staring in disbelief.

"King Edmund," he said, licking his lips and swallowing hard, "I—I've never had a room to myself, let alone... one so... so **beautiful!**"

"It's settled then," he declared, and had just turned to fetch Mrs. Dumplesugar (or the linens) when a hand reached in to tap on the open door.

"Settling Master Per into his quarters, are we?" Mr. Tumnus asked cheerfully, peering into the room. "It looks a bit empty at the moment, but I'm sure we can find a few chests and shelves to make it feel more homey in no time. For now, it is the great land of Spare Oom, ready to be conquered by a brave Son of Adam!"

Edmund laughed with the Faun over the old joke, and although Per did not know what was so funny, he was so overjoyed with the prospect of having a room — and one with, quite literally, a royal view — that he simply joined in their laughter.

###

Once Per's room had been fixed up comfortably, with a soft bed ready for him to fall into at any time, they explored the rest of the castle. Edmund took him first to the highest tower, from where he could get his bearings in Cair Paravel as well as the lands around it.

"Mr. Tumnus has rooms on the west side so he can look out towards his home. You can't really see that far, of course, and even if you could the taller trees of the Great Forest would be in the way, but that's still what he prefers. Sometime we should ask if we can go with him to Lantern Waste. Oh, by the bye, I'm the Duke of Lantern Waste, so I ought to ride out there more often to make sure things are going well. Now that I have you as my squire, maybe I'll have the chance to go without the whole court tagging along. Not that I don't enjoy going out with a large hunting party, mind you, but sometimes it's rather nice to travel quickly and without such a to-do. And we really must go visit the Beavers sometime soon, but **everybody** will want to go for that! We're all very fond of the Beavers."

He was pointing out the lay of the castle to Per, since the tower gave them almost a map-like view of the grounds, when suddenly his voice trailed off. Puzzled, Per followed his gaze to the gardens, where the High King was walking with one of his sisters (Queen Susan, Per decided), his arm offered gallantly for her to cling to. From this distance they could not make out if the pair down below were laughing or in deep, cloistered conversation, but Peter's outline was unmistakable as he bent his head closer to Susan.

Edmund had been stung again by several of the elusive hornets in his stomach, only now — with a sudden and undeniable clarity that stunned him — he realised what they were. They were the pangs of jealousy, and they grew in intensity as he watched his sister do something to Peter's hair. He found himself gripping the edge of the stone parapet so hard that his knuckles turned white, and unclenched them with surprise and embarrassment.

"Uh... Well. Where was I?" he asked, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The revelation had shaken him, but he was determined to give his new squire the information he needed to fulfill his duties. Luckily for Edmund, Per was so overwhelmed with all that he was learning to take much note of his knight's brief discomfiture.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to everyone who expressed concern for my friends in Japan. They're all accounted for, and safe for the most part.


	22. Edmund Hatches a Plan

My Fair Brother

* * *

After unpacking her trunk, Queen Susan had been heading to the gardens for a walk when she passed by the throne room and saw King Peter deep in debate with the Centaur Marcius, their advisor on foreign affairs. Thinking that her brother deserved a break from his work, having only just returned that day, she charmingly asked Marcius to relinquish Peter from his duties for the space of an hour so that he could accompany her to the gardens. Even Centaurs were not immune to Queen Susan's smiles, and Marcius conceded that there were no pressing matters for the High King to attend to, withdrawing with a courteous nod.

"Thanks, Su," Peter acknowledged as they strolled down the colonnade. "Although I don't really mind it, you know... It feels good to be back home."

"It does, doesn't it?" Susan agreed. "But you mustn't over-do it, Peter. You seem to have slept better while we were in Anvard, but I want to make sure you'll be all right now that we're back. You were beginning to look... well, dreadful, to be honest, before we left. Tired, and old beyond your years."

Peter opened his mouth to refute her claim, then closed it with a sigh. "You're probably right. I hadn't been sleeping well for a long while."

"And now? Are you feeling better?" she asked as they stepped out into the garden, arm-in-arm.

"A little. I think going to Archenland was a good change of scenery, not to mention a welcome rest."

"I'm so glad! But I'm worried that you might go back to being... tired, and withdrawn again." She slowed to a stop on the path to look Peter in the eye. "Are things going to be any different now?"

Her brother had no answer to that, and his glance wandered to the orange tree which was in full bloom at the moment. He eventually returned his gaze to his sister's large, anxious blue eyes — so like Edmund's, and yet not.

"I don't know," he admitted at last. "Some days, I think I'm getting better... but then other days I feel even more hopeless than ever. I mean, I know my case is hopeless, but you'd think I would be able to... resign myself, I guess, to what's ultimately inevitable. But then something happens to make me realise that... I'm just as hopelessly enslaved to my feelings. Even when they're terribly inconvenient."

He said this last while brushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes with a gesture of frustration.

"Oh, Peter... I was afraid of that," Susan murmured. "I was rather hoping, when I knew we were going to visit Anvard, that you might be... well, distracted, by one of the girls there. I've made some wonderful friends there, you know, and I thought Lady Verinia was particularly interested in you..."

"She was," Peter responded bluntly. "I know, and I'm flattered, but... I can't help it, Su. I didn't wish to have these feelings to start with, and I can't wish them away — any more than I can wish to **have** feelings for someone else."

"Oh. I see," she replied, although Peter could sense that she did not comprehend his situation at all.

"Look here, Su," he said gently, "you'll understand it once it hits you, whenever it does. You really have no control over it — only over what you do about it, and even that just barely. It's a rum deal, but all you can do is make the best of it. I'm trying, I really am, but some days... some days, it just gets the better of me. That's all."

Susan reached up to smooth Peter's hair (which he had disheveled earlier) with a maternal tenderness. Although Peter was older, she did feel, in a strange way, very protective of him, and his words were so sad — so laden with pain and suffering — that she was moved to tears.

"Oh, Peter," was all she said, but he could read the sympathy in her face, and he raised her hand to his lips with a weary but grateful smile. They spoke no more as they walked through the rest of the gardens, but even her silent companionship was somewhat of a balm to Peter's troubled heart.

###

Edmund had not finished showing Per around the castle when they heard the silver bells ringing, calling them to dinner. However, having traipsed through the major part of Cair Paravel that afternoon, not to mention running out to the West Meadow to see the Horses, the two boys had worked up quite an appetite. Edmund took his seat next to Peter and motioned for Per to sit beside him as well.

Per still felt rather awkward about dining at the same table as the four kings and queens, for all of his previous masters had placed him at a separate table for the servants, and one of the knights (the one to whom Lord Bar had assigned him) had even made him stand and wait, serving the rest of the household, before he was allowed to eat his meager serving of gruel in the kitchen. In some ways his first day in Narnia had had a dream-like quality, and every so often he had pinched himself, trying to prove by the pain that he would not awaken to find it all an illusion. The food placed in front of him seemed real enough, though, so he tucked in with relish, as did King Edmund beside him.

After dinner, Edmund would have dragged him off to see the rest of the castle again, but Mrs. Dumplesugar firmly intervened.

"Eh, King Edmund, you'll run the poor boy ragged, and him only on his first day, too!" she remonstrated. "You'll have plenty of time for gallivanting around tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. But first things first: we must get some clothes for him to wear when he's not out gadding about with you."

"Mrs. Dumplesugar!" Edmund protested, with an exaggeratedly wounded air. "I beg your pardon, madam, but I do **not** 'gad about'!"

"Well then, call it what you will," she replied, very pertly, "but if he's to serve in the royal court of Narnia, I shan't have him wearing a stable-boy's outfit every day. It's not like he's a Beast, more's the pity, whose coat is as good as anything; but as he's Human and must be clad, I'll see to it that he's dressed respectably. Now, if you'll just follow me, my dear, I think there are some old tunics of King Peter's that still have some life in them, and should fit tolerably well."

Edmund trailed after Mrs. Dumplesugar and Per as she took him to a room near the royal quarters, where all of the children's old clothes (at least the ones that weren't ruined) were stored, and helped her pull out some of his brother's less formal attire. Per had never owned more than two shirts at a time, and did not see the need for any more than that, but the Raccoon insisted that he'd need at least two for doing his chores in, two for training in, and one or two nice ones for feasts and such.

"For if you rip one of them," she said, showing him an oft-mended tunic that Peter had worn when he trained in swordfighting, "you must give us at least a day to sew it; and you wouldn't want to miss the next day's training, now, would you?"

Edmund soon grew bored with watching Per trying on different clothes while Mrs. Dumplesugar basted some of them to fit him better, and since she was also keeping the boy company with her kindly chatter, the young king headed to the den to see what his siblings were up to. He found Susan and Mr. Tumnus bent over a game of chess, and Peter in the chair by the window with Lucy predictably in his lap. The hornets were back in a trice to torment Edmund with their painful stings, but now that he had put a name to them and knew them for what they were, he found that he could manage them more easily.

_After all,_ he reminded himself, _Peter's __**my**__ brother, too, so I can spend as much time with him as Susan or Lucy — probably even more, because we're both boys. Why should I be jealous of them, or anybody else for that matter? We train in swordfighting, and wrestling, and boxing... And besides, I'm the only one he's ever bunked with! On the whole, I get to do more things with Peter than anybody else does, so I really have no __**right**__ to be jealous._

He sat down on one of the couches, feeling slightly awkward — though each of the others had glanced in his direction with a smile — and leafed through a book that happened to be lying on the table. He was determined to let Lucy enjoy her time with her favourite brother (Edmund knew this without feeling the least bit of disappointment or resentment about it) without interruption, reasoning that he could afford to be generous with sharing Peter's time.

What had not occurred to Edmund to ask himself yet was why he was not equally jealous of anybody spending time with his sisters. Even if the question had been posed to him, he might have replied (very logically, in his mind) that since Peter was the eldest and also the High King, his affections might be said to be more valuable; or simply that girls, while nice, weren't interested in the same things as boys, and were not as desirable to him as companions. Which would have been a true statement, for not only his sisters but in general, since Edmund had yet to meet a girl whose beauty he could not assess with analytical detachment.

While he skimmed over the pages of the book (which was boring, which was probably why the person who had brought it out had discarded it) he could not stop himself from glancing over occasionally at Peter, as Lucy told him the latest news from around Cair Paravel: how Mrs. Watson, the Anteater, had caught her tail on fire and been laid up for two days; how an old tree in Owl Wood had finally rotted out, leaving a family of Squirrels without a home; how Gimmel the Dwarf had been startled by his brother Hummel and dropped his hammer on his toe, nearly breaking it; and other such tidbits that she had garnered from the castle staff. But the next time Edmund looked over at the cozy pair, he saw Peter's hand resting protectively on Lucy's elbow, and the once-calmed hornets began prickling his stomach again.

It had been mere minutes since he had scolded himself for feeling jealous towards his sister, but the sight of Peter's hand on her arm reminded him (unfortunately) of how that same hand had fondled his own body with such tender care before. And not only that, but of how — for reasons that he did not yet fully understand — that particular brand of touch had been forbidden to him. He did not equate it with the innocent caress in which Peter now held Lucy, of course, but it still left him with a sense of loss and privation, even of unfairness, and his heart ached with such a powerful yearning to be held by his brother that he was rendered quite breathless. His argument about how much more time he spent with Peter was blasted to smithereens, for it was not so much the companionship that he craved as the actual physical contact.

Just as he closed the book and staggered to his feet, intending to escape to his own room, one of the servants (an Otter, Mr. Griswold) came in and announced that the bath was ready. Edmund thought nothing of it, since usually the girls went first, but Lucy called from her coveted perch on Peter's lap.

"You can go ahead, Edmund — you've been busy all day, showing Per around, so you must be tired."

"Oh... Thanks," he managed to reply, for (although he knew that she meant it kindly) he could not help thinking that it gave her that much more time to sit cuddled in Peter's arms. He bit his lip and threw his things together before heading into the bathroom, where he scrubbed himself rather vigorously, making Mr. Griswold anxious for the young king.

"Your tender hide isn't made for such abuse, your Majesty," he cautioned. "You'll rub yourself raw if you're not careful!"

Edmund took several deep, deliberate breaths while the Otter washed his back with more moderate pressure. He had regained his composure by the time he stepped out and dried himself, but it was because he had settled upon a course of action. Peter would insist on the girls taking their turn in the bath before him, gentleman that he was, so Edmund knew that he had some time to get ready. He toweled his hair as dry as he could, then put on his heavy bathrobe and slippers before heading down to the kitchens.

Most of the cooking staff had turned in for the night, but there were two Dryads preparing the bread dough for the next morning (which had not made sense to Edmund at first, until he had realised that yeast was a kind of living thing, too) and a Stoat named Felicity who was puttering about, putting away the last of the pots and pans.

"Why, bless me!" she cried, in her high-pitched squeak. "If it isn't King Edmund! What can I do for your Majesty? Perhaps you're feeling a bit peckish? Would a sandwich be to your liking, or maybe a bit of mincemeat pie?"

"No, thank you, Felicity," he replied with a smile, "but I was wondering if we might have some chamomile tea around."

"To be sure, to be sure," she piped happily, skipping across the worktables on all fours to fetch it from the cupboard. "I can stoke the coals and have some water boiling in just a few minutes, your Highness. But would you like something to nibble on while you wait?"

"Actually, it isn't for me, and you needn't boil the water - I'll just borrow a small kettle for that if you don't mind. It's for Peter, to help him sleep," he confided. "I don't know if you've noticed, but he hasn't been sleeping well for a while now, but they gave him chamomile tea in Anvard, and it seemed to help."

"Ah! We have indeed, your Highness — bless you, we all noticed that **something** was the matter — though we never guessed that he was looking so poorly because of trouble sleeping, or we would have served him the tea ourselves! Such a pity, such a pity... but I'm glad that you've found something to help him, King Edmund! Do you think the High King would care for something to eat with his tea?"

Edmund thought it would not be amiss to offer his brother a few small biscuits, so he helped Felicity put together a tray with the tea things — adding tiny pitchers of cream and honey, which could be put either on the biscuits or in the tea itself, and then a jar of jam, "just in case" as the Stoat said, her whiskers twitching in excitement. Edmund had to draw the line at sardines and toast, however, and dissuaded her by saying that he could not carry up the tray if she loaded it any more.

And so, by the time he returned to the royal quarters with the heavy little tray and kettle full of water (which he had to be careful not to spill along the way), both of the girls had finished their baths and Peter was taking his. Edmund stepped into his brother's empty room and set the tray down with a grateful sigh, then hung the kettle up in the fireplace to heat the water, and settled down on the rug in front of the fire to wait.

* * *

A/N: I've updated my website and added a Narnia Gallery page — www dot SeveRemus dot webs dot com. There's also a page with links to my major stories, both fanfic and original, so please check them out if you have the time!


	23. The Comfort of a Caress

My Fair Brother

* * *

When Peter was done with his bath, he asked Mr. Griswold to find Per and assist him with bathing, too, then crossed the hall to his bedroom, toweling his hair. He stopped in his tracks as he entered and saw Edmund sitting before the fire with a tea tray set out on the hearth.

"Ed," he gasped in surprise, "what are you doing here?"

"I brought you some chamomile tea, to help you sleep. The water should be almost ready," his brother replied, checking the kettle.

"Oh! How... How thoughtful of you," Peter responded, rather breathlessly, as his heart churned with conflicting emotions. He had just been thinking of Edmund, dreading the prospect of spending the night in his spacious, comfortable, yet lonely room, and his pulse had quickened at the mere sight of his brother. However, he feared that he might lose what little self-restraint he possessed if he did not watch himself very closely. Peter tried to control his breathing as he hung up the towel to dry, then took an extra moment to comb his hair, hoping to calm his nerves, but his trembling fingers soon entangled the comb.

"Here, Peter — I can do that for you if you sit down," Edmund offered.

"Um... Thanks, but... I can get it," Peter declined, obstinately tugging at the tangle. Ed watched for a moment longer before he stood up in exasperation.

"Hi! You're going to rip your hair out like that, and how would it look for the High King to have a bald spot under his crown?" he pointed out, grabbing Peter's hands to keep them from doing any more damage. "Sit down by the fire and I'll work it out for you."

Finally relenting, Peter did as he was told, closing his eyes as Edmund's nimble fingers began to pull apart the knots. However, not looking only made him more aware of Edmund's slightly heavy breathing as he focused on the task, well as the heat of his body as he leant close, so Peter opened his eyes again to watch his brother's face — his tongue sticking out between his teeth while his brow furrowed in concentration — as the warm glow of the fireplace lit up one side of him. Peter swallowed hard, feeling his throat turn dry, and gripped his hands on his knees so that he would not be tempted to grab his brother as he had before.

"There! Finally. You really need to be more careful with that, Peter — what would you have done if I didn't happen to be here?"

Peter couldn't very well tell him that he wouldn't have been so clumsy to start with, and was glad that Edmund had only asked the question rhetorically. Now the younger boy was busy retrieving the kettle to steep enough tea for both of them.

"Felicity insisted on sending up something to eat, too," Edmund mentioned, pushing the plate of biscuits closer to Peter. "I hope you're hungry."

"Thanks. It's just the thing," Peter answered, and tried to distract himself by spreading jam on a biscuit. "I say, Ed, you could have just had someone bring me the tea, you know. You must be tired from taking Per around the castle."

"Oh, I'm all right," Edmund replied, handing Peter a steaming cup. "Besides, I wanted to. I felt like I'd left you to do all the catching-up work today, while I spent my time gallivanting around — Mrs. Dumplesugar actually accused me of 'gadding about,' if you please! — with Per. What did Oreius have to say?"

Peter informed him, in between sips and nibbles, of the various mundane business affairs which he had taken care of that afternoon, trying hard not to gaze too deeply into the brown eyes that were fixed upon his own, knowing that he could easily become lost in their depths.

"And we received a letter from the Governor of the Lone Islands, asking for some lumber to replace the masts of several ships," Peter recounted. "Apparently, that storm that rolled through before we left for Archenland had knocked up their fleet pretty badly. I asked the Dryads if there were any ordinary pine trees or maybe even some Talking Trees that had fallen in the storm that we could let them use, so they promised to look around and let us know tomorrow. Then I had Marcius help me compose a letter to King Lune, thanking him for his hospitality and offering ours in return. I think he may bring some of his hunting dogs this time — I suggested that our Talking Dogs might be able to teach them a few tricks, and he seemed to fancy the idea."

Edmund listened with well-feigned interest, although in truth he was observing Peter's face as various expressions flitted across it in quick succession. The High King's questioning look as he had asked the Dryads for advice was re-created for an instant here, his look of formal gratitude to their erstwhile host there, and his own grin of humour, inviting Edmund to smile as well, at the end. Edmund had always been of the opinion that Peter was the best story-teller of their family, and remarked silently to himself now how engaging his older brother could be — not realising, of course, that Peter was trying his very best to be engaging because his sole audience was his beloved younger brother.

"So, what all did you do with Per?" Peter asked, and then it was Edmund's turn to fill him in on the hours that they had spent apart. Edmund wondered if his own narrative might be rather boring, but Peter listened with rapt attention, inquiring as to how Phillip had received the new squire and how Per himself had reacted to the different creatures he had met. Of course, the High King would have found an accounting of how many fish the royal household had consumed in the past month almost as captivating, so long as it came from his younger brother's lips. They both let the last of their tea grow cold as they planned their activities for the next day.

"Well, I should let you get some rest," Edmund eventually (and regretfully) stated, finishing off his tea in one gulp and stacking his cup and saucer on the plate, now empty except for a few crumbs.

"It **is** rather late, I suppose," Peter responded, "but I do appreciate the tea, old chap. It's quite calming." _Not to mention your company, in some ways,_ he added to himself. He had gazed upon his brother's fine features to his heart's content, and knew that they would haunt his dreams whilst he slept.

Edmund picked up the tray and set it on a corner of the hearth with the kettle, then hesitated, frozen for a moment like a statue on his knees. Peter had stood up already and was brushing some crumbs off of his bathrobe, sending them into the fireplace where the burnt logs had begun to fall apart.

"Pete," came Edmund's voice, tentative and slightly thin in the growing darkness, "would it be all right if... well, if..."

"If what?" Peter prodded, turning in puzzlement to his brother.

"Well, I... I don't want to be a nuisance, but... if you don't mind — that is, if I won't keep you awake with my tossing and turning — would it be all right if I slept with you again tonight?"

Edmund had blurted out the last part rather quickly, so that it took Peter a moment to process what he was requesting, and then another moment to consider it.

"Ed... you're never a bother, and you really don't move around much in your sleep, but... I'm not sure that's such a good idea..." he slowly answered, feeling torn. "You know we can't help what happens in the morning, and... well... I just don't think it would be... **proper**."

Edmund bit his lip and nodded, telling himself not to be disappointed, but feeling let down nonetheless. The bees had been humming contentedly in his stomach ever since his brother had entered the room, but now they turned into angry hornets again, sending sharp stabs of pain through his body. Peter, squinting in the dim light to observe his reaction, was jarred to see him look so distressed.

"Ed, what's the matter?" he demanded, urgently. "You forced me into sharing my bunk with you last night, too, didn't you? You made sure that Per was with you when you mentioned it, knowing that I couldn't jolly well say 'no.' And the night before — well, you were half drunk, but you wouldn't leave when I told you to. Is something wrong?" When Edmund would not answer, staying stock-still on his knees, Peter knelt beside him and placed an arm around his shoulders. "You're not still worried that I'll leave, are you?"

"No. I know you won't," Edmund replied, in barely more than a whisper.

"Then what is it? What's eating at you, Ed?" Peter pleaded, his brow furrowed in worry.

"I don't know. I just..." Faltering, Edmund took a deep breath and expelled it. "I just feel **better** when I'm with you, and I can't explain it any better than that. And I know, I usually get to spend the most time with you, but today was a bit different (what with it being Per's first day here and all), and I saw you walking with Susan in the garden, and Lucy was curled up on your lap after dinner like she usually is, but we didn't do any training this afternoon and hardly saw each other except at mealtimes, and I thought it might be nice to talk and catch each other up over tea, and then I wondered, if it was all the same to you—"

Peter brought his brother's rambling to an abrupt halt by placing a hand, very gently but firmly, on Edmund's cheek and turning him to face him. Something that the younger boy had just said had triggered a memory — an echo of something which he had said once before, while they were in Archenland — and the High King intuitively knew that it was more than a coincidence.

"Ed," he asked, half amazed at his own suspicions, "do you want to sit on my lap?"

Edmund blushed so deeply that Peter could see the change even in the faint glow cast by the dying embers, and felt the heat rise in his brother's cheek through his palm. The younger king would have liked to turn away, but Peter's hand was not only preventing any movement but also filling him with such intense yearning that the pain of his longing now drowned out even the stings of the hornets.

"I—I... No! O—Of course not. I'm much too b—big for that, and I... I'd crush your legs!" Edmund stammered in reply.

"Not likely," Peter countered soothingly, although his own heart seemed to be beating in his throat. "I'm not that delicate, you know! And really, Ed... if only you knew... how many times I've wished Mother could have come with us to Narnia... how many times I've wished I could crawl into her lap again, like a little child... or Father, so I could ask him for advice..."

Peter's voice trailed off and Edmund was left staring at him, shocked to hear such honest wistfulness in his older brother's tone.

"Y—You do? I—I mean, you have?" he asked, with something akin to reverence.

"Yes, I do — even now," was Peter's unequivocal response. "Aslan may have made me High King over Narnia, but that doesn't mean he made me any older or wiser, you know. And yes... sometimes, I still wish our parents were around to help us. To help **me**," he amended.

Edmund gaped at him a moment longer before murmuring a breathless, "Oh, Peter!" and flinging himself at him. It nearly knocked Peter off-balance, but he managed to steady himself by clutching Edmund, who was now pressed against his chest and squeezing him so tightly that it hurt.

"Oh, Ed," he whispered, stroking his brother's back and marveling at the smoothness of its curve. There was so much more that he wanted to do to Edmund, to show his love for him, but for now he knew that he needed to restrain himself and stay within the confines of brotherly affection. It nearly broke his heart to feel Edmund's slender arms wrapped around his back, conveying so much need, but he sternly reminded himself that he could not take advantage of his brother's vulnerability or innocence again. With a tremendous effort of self-control, he pried those arms off of him.

"Here, Ed... let go," he coaxed. "Let me sit down so I can hold you properly."

Edmund sniffed and complied, almost in shock at the fact that Peter had offered the very thing that he had so longed for, and waited for his older brother to settle himself with his back against the wall. When Peter opened his arms invitingly, Edmund slid into them with no inhibitions whatsoever; it was only after he had wriggled into a comfortable position and sighed with contentment that the absurdity of their situation occurred to him.

"I suppose you must think I'm a big baby," he said in a low voice, while the bees hummed and tickled his insides from the delightful touches which Peter's hands were giving him. It bothered him that his brother might think of him as a child, but not so much as it would have if he were not wrapped in his loving embrace.

"Of course not," Peter told him, and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead — which was all-too-close to his lips to not do so. "We're still just kids... I don't care how grown-up Susan acts!"

This elicited a giggle from Edmund, and they both relaxed. Edmund rested his head on Peter's shoulder, reveling in the strength he found there as well as the tenderness of his brother's hands as they traveled over his arms, legs, and body. And Peter pondered with wonder that his beloved had wanted, all along, the very thing that he had wished to do above all else.

_It was only my own impropriety, and the need to hide it, that had prevented me from giving him what he wanted,_ he realised. _If I didn't feel so drawn to Edmund — so much __**lust**__,_ he admitted, brutally, _I would have been more affectionate towards him... He'd already noticed that I'd been avoiding him, and that probably made him miss it that much more! So now, I must learn to control my unnatural urges... to be able to be the brother he needs me to be. Oh, Edmund... it's tortuous! But for you, I think I can do anything..._

He placed another kiss on Edmund's brow, pulling him closer. Edmund was in bliss as he closed his eyes and felt more comforted and loved than he could ever remember, or even could have imagined before. Having had a long, tiring day as well, it was not surprising that he soon fell asleep in his brother's arms.

Peter sensed him grow gradually limp, and considered what he ought to do. After stealing one more kiss — this time from Edmund's soft lips — he stood while still holding him and carried him to the bed, sliding him under the covers with some difficulty. He was relieved to hear his brother's breathing still slow and steady. Then, with an almost unbearable burden of love in his breast, the High King slipped out of his room and into Edmund's, choosing to stay in his brother's bed for the night. He feared that he would not be able to sleep well, but recalling how the younger boy had clung to him with undisguised adoration, he soon drifted off into a pleasant slumber.

* * *

A/N: Susan's eye color has been corrected, thank you!


	24. Understanding and Education

My Fair Brother

* * *

Mr. Tumnus was startled when he entered King Edmund's room, expecting to find King Edmund, and instead found King Peter sleeping there. Something odd was going on with the two brothers, and the Faun had come to his own conclusion over the past few days. He gently shook the High King's shoulder.

"Time to rise, your Majesty!" he said with his usual cheerfulness. "It looks like we might get some rain today, for which the Dryads will be glad!"

Peter rubbed his eyes and yawned before sitting up.

"So they will," he agreed, "as will all of our farming folk."

The Faun observed him carefully until Peter realised where he was.

"If you'll pardon me for asking, your Highness," Mr. Tumnus began, "is there anything the matter with King Edmund? Is he, perhaps... suffering from nightmares?"

"W—What makes you say that?" Peter asked in return, somewhat flustered by the question as well as his surroundings.

"Well, he seems to be craving your company, especially at night. And having had a few bad dreams myself of the White Witch, from time to time..."

"Have you, indeed? I'm very sorry to hear that," Peter said sincerely.

"Yes, well... nothing a good cup of tea doesn't settle," the Faun dismissed. "But your brother was a mere child at the time, and I can't help but think that it must have been... well, much more terrifying for him."

"Yes... I believe you're right," Peter replied thoughtfully. "He hasn't mentioned it to me, but it may very well be why, as you say, he's been craving my company..."

"Of course, one can see why he would seek **your** company for something of that nature, rather than his sisters' — even though they are paragons of kindness," Mr. Tumnus pointed out, "since I'm sure it would be... er... a rather tender subject for a young man of his years. A matter of... his royal dignity."

This threw a new light on the situation for Peter, and he nodded as he reflected on Edmund's recent behaviour.

"Yes. Quite understandable," he murmured.

"I presume that King Edmund, then, is in your room?"

"Yes. He fell asleep after he brought me some chamomile tea, and I couldn't carry him all the way here, so I let him stay there for the night." Peter pulled on his bathrobe and stood up. "I'll see to it that he wakes up, Mr. Tumnus. And thank you. I hadn't considered how having been a prisoner of the White Witch might leave one with... some rather nasty memories, and I appreciate your perspective on the matter."

"Glad to be of service, Sire," the Faun replied with a neat bow, and retreated from the room.

Peter stood there for a moment longer, debating as to how to handle his toilet. Since he was planning on awakening his brother and sending him back here to his own room, he did not want to use Edmund's chamber pot. Despite his need, he decided to leave off relieving himself just yet of his manly burden, and crept into his own chamber where Edmund lay sleeping.

"Ed... Wake up, Ed!" he said, shaking his younger brother, who only groaned before sinking back into slumber. His pale face was turned away from Peter, but the delicate line of his jaw and neck made the High King swallow in an effort to quell his desires.

"Ed, come on! You need to get up," he pleaded, shaking him with more force this time. Finally, Edmund's eyes opened, blinked, and opened again.

"Peter," he mumbled happily. "Good morning."

"It looks like rain," Peter laughed, "but yes, it **is** a good morning. And you need to get back to your own room."

"Oh," Edmund replied, glancing out the window before getting up. He was still wooly-headed, and watched vaguely as Peter selected a clean set of clothes to wear; however, his eyes were keen enough to notice the bulge under his brother's bathrobe. It reminded him of his own need, and he stared longingly, even hungrily, at Peter's hands as he fussed with his clothes (waiting for Edmund to leave). The bees were buzzing inside of him, all the way down to the tip of his straining manhood.

"I say, Peter," he began, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, "I still don't understand why we can't... you know, help each other out, like we did when your hand was hurt. I don't see why it's such a bad thing... And you haven't given me a good reason yet, like you promised."

Peter turned to him in dismay.

"I—I know, Ed. And I'm sorry. I just... I haven't come up with a good way to explain it all. And I've been — we **both** have been, rather busy, these past few days..."

"I know. I don't mean to rush you or anything, it's just that... well, you need to take care of **that**" — indicating what was hidden under the bulge — "just like I do, and it worked so **well** when we did it for each other, so it seems a shame that we can't keep doing it that way. At least, it felt really great for me when you did it, although I suppose you were being nice when you said I'd got on as well..."

"No, I... I wasn't lying, Ed," Peter said, blushing up to his ears. "You did great! But... it's just not right. Of course it **felt** good and all, but that's... that's because it's **supposed** to." Struck with a burst of inspiration, he continued, "Don't you see, Ed, that it's **meant** to be better — more satisfying — when you share it with someone else? Because that's how it's supposed to be! It's supposed to be something that you share with the... the one person you love more than anybody else in the world."

Peter felt faint from the crushing weight on his heart, realising that that person for him was none other than his brother Edmund, who was currently regarding him with unspeakably lovely brown eyes. But he forced himself to go on.

"You're supposed to share it with the person you marry, and discover how much more wonderful it can be. It's supposed to be something special, a secret that you share with that person alone, and... I should never have helped you with it, Ed... I'm sorry. I led you to think that it was all right to do it with someone else (even if it was just me, as your brother), and that was wrong. I'm so sorry..."

"Oh, Peter!" Edmund responded, jumping up and coming over to throw his arms around him, making his brother's physical condition even more dire. "I don't think it was wrong at all! I know, I know — you're saying that **that's** the whole problem, but... I just can't believe that it **is**. I couldn't have got through my first time without your help, Peter, and that's the truth! So I don't want you beating yourself up over doing what had to be done. Maybe if we'd been in England, I would've figured it out on my own, but the fact is we were here and I hadn't. All right?"

Peter couldn't help but smile, albeit wanly, at his brother's fierce demand.

"All right. I won't beat myself up over it. But I need you to understand that... there are certain boundaries — important ones — that mustn't be crossed. Can you at least see that?"

Edmund nodded, then buried his face against his brother's shoulder.

"I can see where you're drawing the line. I don't necessarily **like** where it's at, but I can see it," he mumbled.

Peter sighed, and slid his hands over Edmund's back, embracing him as the younger boy clung to him.

"All right. I guess that'll have to do... for now."

###

After Edmund returned to his own room, he relieved himself by remembering how warm his brother's hands had been (even through his nightclothes), and wondered afterwards if even that was a forbidden pleasure. Peter, in the next room, was sure that it was, but guiltily indulged in reveries of his brother's ivory skin, soft and warm under his lips, and gasped Edmund's name as he released his male seed. Both arrived somewhat late to the breakfast table, where their sisters were chatting with Per.

The two queens found out that the boy had not been as well educated as they might have hoped, and Susan in particular was determined that he should have the benefit of learning from the Centaurs as they did. The sorts of things those venerable Creatures taught were really quite useful, unlike certain subjects in our schools, and even Narnian history was far more interesting than the ordinary sort — perhaps because there were so many extraordinary people (including Beasts) in them. Per had managed to learn most of his letters, but reading anything more than a simple list was a chore, so Lucy offered him her Narnian primer and Susan volunteered to be his tutor.

The kings and queens of Narnia availed themselves to all Narnians, down to the smallest thrush, to give audience to their petitions and (more rarely) complaints; their subjects only needed to make their appointments in advance, which was not very difficult. This morning there were no appointments, so the children gathered in the study off the main hall with their teachers, the Centaurs Glordus and Sageion, for their lessons. Per shyly joined them, and Sageion asked him questions to assess how much he already knew, and agreed with Queen Susan that the first thing the boy needed to do was practice reading and expand his vocabulary.

While Glordus asked Lucy and Edmund various questions that required thought as well as math to solve, Sageion assigned chapters of books for Susan and Peter to read and write extracts of, then left them to their tasks while he patiently listened to Per read Lucy's primer. If the Centaur was appalled at his lack of learning, he was too polite to show it, but he helped the boy with the longer words and explained to him the ones that he did not know until it was almost time for lunch.

"He has a good mind, well worthy of cultivating," was all Sageion said to Peter before leaving, but it gave Per enormous satisfaction to know that the wise Creature considered him worth the trouble to teach.

After lunch they had some time to do as they wished, and although Edmund was ready to drag Per around the rest of the castle, Lucy intervened on Per's behalf, noting how tired he looked. The boy confessed that he **was** feeling rather worn out.

"And no wonder," Peter added kindly. "You've been at your book all morning! Why don't you take a turn in the garden with us? It will do your eyes good to see all the growing things."

Per thanked him and followed him and Lucy (who was, as usual, clinging to her brother's arm), and Edmund and Susan fell into step behind them.

"I say, Ed," Susan remarked in a low tone, so as to not be overheard, "Peter's looking rather well lately. I wonder if he's been sleeping better?"

"I hope so," he responded, with a grin. "I've been making sure he drinks some chamomile tea every night, and I think it's helping."

"I'm so glad you thought of it!" Susan beamed.

"Me, too," Edmund agreed, and glanced ahead to where Peter was pointing at a flowering shrub and telling Per its name. He felt a momentary stab of pain, as from one of the pesky hornets, which surprised him a great deal.

_I really must stop this nonsense,_ he thought, scowling to himself. _I'm too old to get jealous at every little thing! And I __**am**__ glad that Per is here and learning how to be a Narnian. He's __**my**__ squire, after all!_

With that, he determined to be more sensible about his feelings, never considering that his heart might not be so easily controlled by his mind.

###

The rest of the afternoon was spent in swordfighting practice for the boys and archery practice for the girls. Edmund enjoyed the physical activity, as any healthy boy might, and almost forgot to restrain himself when he was paired with Per. His new squire had not been trained every day by some of the best warriors of the land — instead being made to clean equipage and do other mundane tasks — and could hardly be expected to possess the same degree of skill as the young king. After Edmund's first glancing blow nearly caused the boy to stumble, he took more care in how he attacked him, making sure not to overwhelm or injure him. It required more skill, in fact, to do this, and gave Edmund a new appreciation for his own teachers.

Peter was training with Morchaeus, a Minotaur, and was forced to exert every last ounce of skill and strength to keep from getting clouted on the head (lightly, compared to what the great Creature was capable of, but a resounding blow nonetheless). He did manage to get in a few good slices and jabs with his wooden sword, which made Morchaeus bellow with laughter; for the Minotaur was quite a jolly soul, and loved nothing more than seeing his royal charges grow in skill. The noise caused Per to jump, startled, in the next circle, since the boy had never seen a Minotaur before, much less heard one laugh — and indeed, Edmund had to explain to him that it **was** a laugh, and nothing compared to the fearsome battle cry the Creatures could emit when the occasion called for it.

By the time their training ended for the day, Peter was soaked in sweat, and three Dwarfs helped him remove his armour and cleaned off the metal pieces immediately so that the hinges would not rust. Susan and Lucy rejoined them, still fresh from their more leisurely activity, and both queens wrinkled their noses.

"Phew! Peter, you need a bath," Lucy declared.

"I'm sure I do," he laughed, unfastening his gorget. "I say, I wonder if the River is warm enough to bathe in? I'm hot enough for a dip, at any rate."

"I'll go with you," Edmund offered, and while the High King thanked the Dwarfs for tending to his gear, the younger king said to Per, "You can come with us if you like. It's still too cold to go in the water unless you've worked up a sweat like Peter, but it's a nice walk down and back."

"You'll need towels if you're going bathing," Susan reminded her brothers, and before she had finished saying so, Mrs. Hoppinger dashed off to fetch them. Peter quaffed a whole flagon of water while they waited, then Edmund and Per took the towels from Mrs. Hoppinger and carried them for Peter (to keep them relatively clean). Then the three boys trotted out of the courtyard through the western gate and sprinted across a field to where the Great River rushed past, nearly at the end of its journey to the sea.

"Is it safe?" Per asked anxiously as Peter discarded his boots and plunged into the deep, swift current.

"Oh, sure — Peter's an excellent swimmer," Edmund assured him, watching his brother's flaxen head bob above the surface. "Mind you, I stay closer to the banks, myself, but he's got a few years on me."

"I fear I've never learned how to swim," Per admitted.

"No? Well, when it gets warmer we'll show you how. It's not so hard, once you get the hang of it."

Peter crawled up the bank, drenched and shivering.

"That was cold! Refreshing, b—but cold!" he spluttered, gratefully wrapping himself in the towels. He caught Edmund in the face with some drops that were flung off from his hair, making his brother flinch, so then he teasingly shook his head (like Dogs do when they're wet) and sent droplets flying everywhere. Edmund ducked in vain, and both of the younger boys were spattered with water as Peter laughed and then started running back to the castle. With a shout Edmund chased after him, followed by Per, so that by the time they returned to Cair Paravel — panting and warm from their exertions — all three of them needed to bathe properly.

Queen Susan had foreseen as much, of course, and had asked the servants to ready the royal bath, so Peter (upon the other two's insistence) went first. Edmund was next, but since Per was prepared to assist him with bathing, he told his squire to strip down so they could bathe together, and although Per was somewhat shy, Edmund was so nonchalant about the whole thing that he soon set Per at ease. Mr. Griswold was helpful, too, and made sure that both boys washed behind their ears.


	25. The Trees' Visit and a Late Night Snack

My Fair Brother

* * *

When Edmund and Per came downstairs, still somewhat damp from their bath and ravenously hungry after all the exercise they had gotten that afternoon, they found Peter and the girls in the throne room, finishing up some business with two Dryads. One was a willowy Aspen lady with bright, almost yellowish leaves in her hair, and the other was an elder of the Firs, whose bushy eyebrows seemed very like the bristles of the stately evergreens. They had come in response to the High King's request for lumber, which the Governor of the Lone Islands wished to purchase, to report where some suitable fallen timber could be found. The Trees had no use for the gold to be collected from the sale, but did ask if a trench might be dug on the south bank of the Telmar River to facilitate the drainage of rainwater, for Firs are not fond of swampy land. King Peter promised to send a team of Dwarfs and Moles for the task, and they would be paid for their labour with the gold from the Governor, so everybody would be satisfied.

The Fir elder, called Windbough by most (since his true name was not pronounceable by other Creatures), made a slow bow to the High King before turning and inclining his head to King Edmund. A smile grew upon his leathery lips when he saw Per, staring at him in open-mouthed wonder. Edmund did not catch his friend's expression until he had already started to introduce him.

"I'm so glad to see you, Windbough, and thank you for coming so far from your Tree," he began, his warmth genuine — for he had always been fascinated by trees, even in England, and the Narnian Trees had taught him more about botany than he would have ever learned in his own world. "I'd like to introduce you to Per, my squire, who has just come with us..." — here he paused, catching Per gaping at the tall Dryad — "...from Archenland. I don't believe he's met one of your kind before."

"We are well met, Per, Son of Adam," Windbough pronounced with solemn weight, although Edmund knew enough of the Dryad to recognise the twinkle of humour in his eye.

"I—I'm very pleased to meet you," Per answered, recovering himself. He had seen a Birch Dryad upon his arrival in Narnia, so the Aspen Dryad did not seem so strange, and he was able to bow with relative grace when introduced to her. Her name was Eliadra, and she had offered to guide the Dwarfs to where the fallen Trees were. Peter was already consulting Dursolt on who should be sent to fetch the lumber and who to dig the trench, while Susan asked the kitchen staff to prepare appropriate dishes (dirt, mostly) for their arboreal guests.

Dinner that evening was a more formal affair than the night before, and afterwards a group of seven Fauns came (at Lucy's request) to sing some woodland folk songs. Per was astonished beyond words when even Windbough joined in the spontaneous dance, but he was soon caught up by the music — which seemed to infect one's feet, making them itch to move — and found himself twirling around with Eliadra, the Fauns, and the royal children. Even Peter didn't mind dancing when it was with his own people, the sundry Creatures and Beasts of Narnia. Edmund laughed as he passed Per, seeing that the boy was beaming with delight.

###

When the dancing had finally drawn to an end and the children traipsed upstairs to their chambers, Per offered to help Edmund change, which made the young king grin with amusement.

"You know, I never really understood that part — as though I weren't old enough to dress myself!" he told Per. "You'd think a king would have enough sense to be able to do that much... unless he had really complicated clothes. But I don't, thank goodness! So there's no need to stand on such formality."

Bidding his squire goodnight, Edmund changed into his nightshirt and bathrobe, then padded down to the kitchen in his slippers. Felicity was waiting for him with a tray already loaded with treats.

"Golly!" was all Edmund could say when first presented with the tray, which had stacks of plates balanced precariously one on top of another, with cakes, biscuits, treacle, and other items too numerous to mention.

"I didn't know what King Peter might like, but I do hope there is **something** to suit his fancy here," the Stoat eagerly said, standing on her hind feet just to look over the top of the stack.

"Felicity... I... I'm really grateful for all the work you've put into this," Edmund began, feeling awful for what he had to say, "but there's no way I can carry this upstairs! At least, not without tripping over my feet and smashing everything to bits. And that's not even counting the kettle for the water... And really, all we need is the chamomile tea, so Peter can sleep. You needn't even prepare a cup and saucer for me, since **I** have no trouble sleeping. So... maybe just a biscuit or two for Peter — in case he's feeling peckish — and the tea service will do."

He managed to convince the good-hearted cook to remove most of the items, although realising that she had baked a little cake especially for them, he couldn't help but tell her that it smelled delicious and that his brother would probably like it very much indeed. What with the milk and honey and lemon to go in the tea, and the cake and a mountain of biscuits, the tray still ended up being quite heavy, and Edmund had just picked it up when Felicity remembered the kettle, so he had to set it down and hang the kettle from his arm before starting all over again.

Edmund managed to reach the upstairs hallway without incident and was struck with an idea as he passed Per's door. He kicked at the base of it lightly, careful not to lose his balance, and had to repeat the improvised knock before a sleepy Per opened the door to see what the noise was about.

"Your Majesty!" he said in some surprise.

"I'm sorry to get you out of bed, but I thought you might be able to help us with this," Edmund told him, holding out the tray. "Felicity baked the cake just for Peter, but could you take a couple of the biscuits? The old girl would be **so** disappointed if we left anything, especially after I made her take off half of the things she'd set out, but I can't imagine that the two of us could eat all of this. Oh, take another biscuit or two — we really don't need so many!"

Per took another biscuit and remarked, "So... you've continued serving King Peter chamomile tea? I wish you would have mentioned it, your Majesty. I would have brought it up for you."

"Oh, don't worry — I don't mind," the other boy replied.

"But King Edmund... this is exactly the sort of job I **ought** to be doing. In fact, I've been feeling rather... well, **odd**, since I don't have any real work to do. If you could let me do this every night, I'd at least feel like I was making myself useful. Otherwise, I don't know what I'm doing to earn my keep."

"Well, if you'd really like the work, I **could** use another hand," Edmund answered. "Not that I want Felicity to keep piling up the tray like she did tonight (you should've seen it!), but if the two of us split the load, it would be much easier. Plus you could help us finish the treats. All right, then: tomorrow night we'll both go down to the kitchen."

With that settled, he bid Per goodnight again, and went down to Peter's door to kick on it as well. His brother responded immediately, having been waiting — wondering if Edmund were coming — and when he didn't come in on his own, Peter opened the door to see what the matter was.

"Sorry, I couldn't set this down without risking spilling something," Edmund explained, and Peter laughed and took it off of his hands, setting it down carefully on the hearth.

"I'm surprised you managed all the way up here on your own," he commented.

"I stopped by to give Per some of the biscuits, and he offered to help me starting tomorrow — says he wants to feel like he's earning his keep."

"Well, have you assigned him anything to do? Apart from following you around, that is."

"Not really," Edmund admitted, hanging the kettle over the fire. "I suppose I should have him polish my armour and stuff. I'll take him to the armoury tomorrow and get him situated with the Dwarfs in charge there."

"Good idea," Peter responded, sitting against the wall in the same spot as the night before. He wasn't sure if Edmund had already had his fill of sitting on his lap, but wanted to show that the offer was still good, should he wish to take him up on it. Edmund glanced over and saw his brother watching him with an inviting smile, and crawled over on his knees. The bees were not only humming in his stomach, but making that whole organ turn somersaults inside of him.

"Are you sure I'm not too heavy?" he asked, hesitating.

"Of course! But if you're so worried," Peter replied, spreading his thighs, "you can sit between my legs."

This suited Edmund perfectly, as he found out, for when he leant against Peter with his bottom on the floor, he did not have to curl up to fit under his brother's chin, and once Peter had clasped his arms around him, he felt very snug indeed. The bees buzzed their approval all throughout his body.

"Say, Ed," Peter began, trying to distract himself from focusing on his brother's soft curves. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," came Edmund's swift reply, muffled slightly as his face was buried in Peter's bathrobe.

"Have you been having any... nightmares? About... you know... when you were a prisoner?"

He carefully avoided mentioning the White Witch, although Edmund knew immediately what he meant.

"Well... sometimes. Once in a great while I'll wake up cold, thinking I'm back in her dungeons," he admitted. "Usually it's because the blankets have slipped off or something silly like that. Once I woke up with a start, thinking I was tied up to that tree again — where that nasty Dwarf of hers was pricking me with his knife — but I was just tangled in the sheets. It took a while for my heart to stop pounding that time, though, even though I knew full well that she was long gone..."

Peter's arms tightened about Edmund in a protective embrace.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured into his hair.

"Why? It wasn't **your** fault. **I** was the one stupid enough to believe her lies," Edmund countered, matter-of-factly.

"But I was the one who drove you to it," Peter said, not letting up his tight hold on his brother. "I was so hard on you when I found out that you'd been to Narnia before... even though you were right — we didn't believe Lucy when **she** told us about it, so why would you have expected us to believe you? And I was downright **spiteful** when I gave you that coat..."

"Oh, Peter! Come off it!" Edmund demanded, suddenly sitting up and turning to face him. "I know you feel responsible for everything and everybody, being the oldest and all, but I should hope I'm man enough to admit my own faults! I **wanted** to believe the White Witch — I **wanted** to be the only one made a prince and a king! It was my own selfishness that got me into that mess, so don't go shouldering the blame for that on top of everything else, for heaven's sake! It's not like you don't have enough to worry about already, without adding **my** faults to the pile."

Peter gaped at his younger brother, his mouth opened to protest but with no words coming out. Partly, he was silenced by the flashing fire in Edmund's usually mild eyes, into which he was now staring with abandon. He had often felt, before, that he could drown in those depths, and now he had sunk into them unawares.

"Um... all right," he mumbled, trapped by the intensity of Edmund's glare as well as the full beauty of his brother's face when seen at such close range. Peter's unwontedly vague answer gave the younger boy pause, but in a gentler, more compassionate tone, Edmund continued his little lecture.

"It's no wonder you can't sleep at night, if you keep blaming yourself for stuff you only had the smallest part in! You needn't worry about all that rot — I've gotten over it, and **I** was the one who'd actually run off and blabbed to the Witch what Aslan's plans were. It helps that Aslan himself forgave me, of course, but if he could forgive **me**, I'm sure he can't still be mad at you. You need to let up on yourself, Peter — like you said, Aslan may have made you the High King, but it's not like he made you any older or wiser. But he must've known you'd make a great king, just as you were."

Peter could not form an answer, and his hands had slipped down to rest on either side of Edmund. The younger boy picked up the one at his front and rubbed it in his own, as though warming it.

"And you needn't worry about my nightmares, either — they're not that bad, and I don't see them half as often as I used to. Come to think of it, I haven't had any frightful dreams at all, lately... must come from having you right next to me every night."

The coy smile that curled Edmund's lips made Peter nearly drool with desire, and he felt a dangerous twitch in his nether regions. He swallowed hard before attempting to speak.

"Actually, Ed... last night I wasn't. I slept in your room, since I couldn't move you that far."

Edmund's startled look spoke plainly that he had not known of it.

"You were asleep when I left, and still sleeping when I came back in the morning, so you didn't notice," Peter explained. "But I'm glad to hear that you haven't been bothered by those dreams as much."

"Why didn't you stay here?" Edmund asked slowly, troubled by the hornets again. "Don't you want to sleep with me?"

"Ed... it's not like that," Peter sighed. "I would love to sleep with you — I mean, I don't mind it at all, and it's rather nice when it's cold out," he amended. "But like I've pointed out before, we can't help what happens with our bodies sometimes, and I... well, I just don't think it's a good idea."

Shadows flickered on Edmund's downcast face as a certain incident — when his brother was fast asleep and unaware of his actions — was brought up in his memory. He had "helped" his brother achieve release, but without his consent or knowledge. For the first time, he felt a twinge of guilt over what he had done that time, and realised that he had (however unwittingly) crossed the invisible line which Peter had been trying to describe to him.

"Oh," was all he could say in response to his brother's pronouncement. He was glad that the kettle started to hiss and announce the water's readiness just then, and busied himself with making Peter's tea. He felt the loss of Peter's arms from around his person acutely, and wished he could crawl back on to his lap again while watching him divide the cake into equal halves.

"What, don't you have a cup?" Peter asked, noticing its lack for the first time.

"No. I don't need any tea, since I can sleep all right without," Edmund replied.

"Well, you need something to wash the cake down. You can drink out of mine, from the other side."

This cozy arrangement mollified Edmund somewhat, aided by Felicity's delicious cake. When they had devoured every last crumb of it, he poured another cupful of the tea, and was gratified by Peter offering him a seat on his lap again.

"Ed," the older boy said, carefully choosing his words as he stroked his brother's curly hair, "I don't want you to ever think that I don't **want** to be with you. It's just that sometimes... in some cases, we have to avoid doing certain things — perfectly innocent things, in and of themselves — because they can lead to something worse. That's all."

"All right," Edmund answered, sincerely. He was comfortably nestled in his brother's embrace again, and the bees were humming in a low, happy monotone. They stayed that way for a long while before Peter nudged him awake and sent him to his own room, but even then, the feeling of contentment remained. He did, however, wonder for a brief moment what the "something worse" that Peter mentioned might be; but he soon drifted off into restful slumber, where his dreams were of sunlight and his brother's kindly smiles.

* * *

A/N: "Edward" indeed! I can't believe I hadn't caught that yet... Thanks!


	26. Per Settles in and Edmund Finds Stars

My Fair Brother

* * *

Over the next few days, Per settled into a routine at his new home. On mornings that the royal children gave audiences to their subjects, he polished King Edmund's armour and saddle gear until the Dwarf-wrought metals — down to the buckles on the stirrups — gleamed like silver. If they were studying with the Centaurs, he would join them and be tutored by Sageion. During combat training, he stood by to assist his knight or (more often) was trained separately by Apheridys, a Satyr and the Captain of the Royal Guard. Although he found it rather unnerving to cross swords with the fearsome creature, Apheridys was a patient and thorough instructor, pointing out the boy's faults in ways that he could easily understand, and Per himself could tell that he was improving quickly.

He had also become well acquainted with the castle's varied staff through Mrs. Dumplesugar. On major washing days he helped the Raccoons and Otters carry the bedding downstairs to be washed, then to the southern terraces to be hung out to dry — for even the smallest of blankets was a serious load for the Beasts, especially when wet. He laughed to see the furry washer-women cavorting in the water to get the laundry thoroughly clean, and did not mind in the least when they sprayed him with soapy water as they shook themselves dry.

He also made himself useful in the stables on rainy days, offering to brush any Horse who cared to be groomed; for once he had grown accustomed to the fact that they could talk, he felt quite at home with them. As some of the Horses came from the farther reaches of Narnia with news for the kings and queens, they also took back news of the goings-on at the castle, including word of a young but very capable Son of Adam who was now King Edmund's squire.

From the very first night that he had gone down to the kitchens to help his knight with the tea tray, Felicity had insisted on making up a little plate with tasty treats just for Per, which the boy gratefully devoured when he retired to his own room. He would never have dreamed of joining the two royal brothers in their late-night snack, since he was used to being a mere servant; in fact, the generosity bestowed upon him by not only the Pevensies but also the rest of the Narnians was at times overwhelming. He often pondered how lucky he was as he ate his cakes and biscuits, sipping the warm milk that Felicity had prepared for him.

###

One afternoon Per and Edmund were sitting on the steps of the courtyard, resting after their archery practice, when they saw Felicity bounding towards the gate on all fours with a basket slung around her neck, which bounced along with her on her narrow back.

"Where are you going, Miss Felicity?" Per asked curiously.

"To the West Meadow and possibly beyond, to gather some herbs," she replied, pausing to answer him and bow to Edmund. "We're beginning to run low on chamomile, so I'm hoping to bring back a few plants to grow in the gardens."

"Oh!" Edmund said, startled. "I thought we already had some in the gardens. Have we been using them up too quickly for Peter's tea?"

"Not at all, not at all, King Edmund!" she squeaked. "We simply haven't needed to grow it here before, and were getting some already dried from the woodland folk. Now that we know it helps King Peter sleep, the Voles are preparing a special bed where we can plant it."

"In that case, I ought to help you gather some, at least," Edmund remarked, standing up. "I can't tell you what a relief it's been to all of us, knowing that Peter's sleeping better now. Besides, I hate to think of you carrying that basket back by yourself."

Felicity was hesitant to accept his help, but Edmund knew how to be persuasive, and she eventually relented. Per insisted that he would enjoy the opportunity to see more of the countryside, too, so the three of them set out together for the woods.

Peter had been picking out a few roses in the flower garden with Susan, and saw them just as they were leaving through the gate. He felt a pang of longing at the sight of his brother telling Per some anecdote with great animation. Per was thrilled at the opportunity for an excursion, despite being tired from his chores of the day, and laughed happily as he kept pace with Edmund.

"I wonder where they could be going?" Susan commented, coming to stand next to Peter. "I do hope they won't be late for supper."

"I'm sure they won't be," her brother responded with a forced smile. "After all, Felicity is with them."

The High King **had** been sleeping better since the institution of bedtime tea by Edmund, but it had less to do with the chamomile and more to do with the company of his lovely brother. Every night they reflected on the events of the day, the news from various parts of their kingdom, and the sometimes humourous grievances brought to them by their subjects, who (now that the White Witch was gone) could and did renew petty arguments which had lain dormant (or at least frozen) for a hundred years. Occasionally the two kings discussed more serious misunderstandings, often caused by the different perspectives of the different Creatures who happened to live in close proximity, but even then King Peter found it refreshing to exchange ideas with his insightful younger brother.

It was with some regret that he now turned to follow his sister inside the castle, knowing that he should try to read the book assigned to him by Sageion, but knowing also that he would not be able to concentrate much on the printed pages. His first instinct upon seeing Edmund leave with the others was to run after them and join them on whatever errand or adventure they were embarking, but he had restrained himself.

_It's good that he's spending time with someone his own age,_ Peter admonished himself silently. _And the less time I spend with him, the less likely I'll be to do something inappropriate._

At least the book on Narnian history he needed to read was quite interesting, especially since he could recognise some of the places that came up in it, but every so often his eyes would wander to the window, waiting to catch sight of his brother returning.

###

The two boys and Felicity did return in time for dinner, her basket filled with herbs and the boys' arms filled with uprooted chamomile plants, which they left in the vegetable garden for the Voles to tend. When Peter heard the purpose of their jaunt beyond the castle walls, he felt a pang of guilt, knowing that the chamomile was mainly for him, even though the effectiveness of the tea itself was debatable.

"I hope it wasn't too much trouble. I don't need to have it **every** night, you know..." he remarked.

Edmund had made peace with the bees in his stomach over the past few days, coming to welcome their friendly buzzing whenever he was with Peter, but now they swarmed and made his hungry stomach lurch. The thought of giving up what had become a nightly ritual was almost unbearable.

"It's no trouble at all!" he protested. "It grows wild all around the forest, and now we've got some in the garden. And Felicity can sniff out a clump from over fifty paces away!"

"We also met some Horses who told us where to find a large patch," Per added. "There was more there than the two of us could carry."

"One of the Horses was Phillip's cousin," Edmund mentioned, more calmly. "Per's been grooming them when they come in to the stables on rainy days, so they were already friends. I had no idea!"

"That's certainly very industrious of you," Peter said to Per with warm approval.

The boy blushed, murmuring, "I've always liked working with Horses, your Highness. And it's very interesting to be able to talk to them."

"Well then, I'm glad that it's worked out for you," Peter responded, passing a bowl of fruit to Mr. Tumnus.

"I do hope you like being here," Lucy said, addressing Per as well, while she buttered a hot bun. "I'd hate to think we took you away from everything you knew, if you don't like it here any better than Anvard."

"Oh, Queen Lucy!" Per cried, quite overcome. "There's no fear of that, my lady — I cannot imagine a better life than what I have now!"

"We're all glad to hear it," Susan said with a smile, making the boy blush even deeper.

###

Later that evening, Peter was waiting for Edmund again — this time on the balcony overlooking the sea, since it was getting warm enough, even after the sun had set, to lounge in his bare feet on the stone porch outside his bedroom. He had built a little fire in the fireplace just for boiling the water, although the room needed no more heat to be comfortable. Soon there was the familiar tapping on his door, and before he could cross his room to open it, Edmund and his faithful squire let themselves in to set the tea things on the hearth.

"I swear Felicity is trying to fatten us up like little pigs," Edmund told Peter without preamble. "Tonight she baked strawberry tartlets **and** a sticky toffee pudding!"

"I say," Peter replied, looking over the desserts in awe, "we ought to share some with the girls, too. I can't see us eating all of that, can you?"

"My thoughts exactly!" Edmund agreed, already cutting up the toffee pudding (which is really a cake). "We can split the pudding and the tartlets and **still** have a feast! Here, Per, hand me your plate — you need to help with this, too."

Per had already received his own plate of tartlets, to which Edmund now added a generous wedge of the pudding. The rest he divided equally between two plates, and Per was happy to take one of them to the queens who (Peter assured him) were both still up, drying their hair.

Once alone, Edmund settled into Peter's lap, sitting sidesaddle across one of his thighs though with his weight on the floor. Peter had found that by folding up his other leg he could create a natural backrest for his brother, and so comfortably situated, they nibbled on the tartlets while they waited for the water to boil.

"I really must have a chat with Felicity about not getting carried away with cooking, although I know she enjoys it," Edmund mentioned in between bites. "I mean, I hate to be wasteful, when all of our food is brought in by our people."

"Quite right," Peter agreed. "A little snack is one thing, but this... this is a tad extravagant. I can speak to her, too, if need be."

"I don't think so... She can be sensible enough if you can just get her to slow down to see reason."

Edmund licked a smudge of strawberry from his fingers before snuggling against Peter's chest, and his elder brother nearly dropped a tartlet when he felt Edmund's finger stroke his neck.

"It's like Vramar, just a little west of due north," Edmund commented.

"W—What?" Peter stammered, not knowing what he meant.

"Your freckle, here. If the middle of your neck is due north, it's just a little to the west of it, like Vramar, the Birds' Compass."

The star was so named since migrating Narnian Birds (and possibly Non-Talking birds as well) used it to navigate their long flights home. Finally realising that his brother was referring to his mole, Peter tried to regulate his breathing while he set the tartlet down on his saucer.

"I have several moles, here and there. I suppose you could even make constellations out of them," he said, with a slightly shaky laugh.

"Of course. The Centaurs would find deep omens in the great constellation, 'Peter's Chin,'" Edmund replied with a giggle.

"Oh, really?" Peter retorted, dropping his knee so that his brother fell back with it and was forced to look up at him, as he glowered down with mock ferocity. It only served to make Edmund giggle harder, and Peter could not stop the grin that formed on his own face as well.

"If I've got constellations on my chin," Peter declared, "then you've got the Milky Way on your cheeks and nose."

Edmund had been feeling as though the bees were tickling his insides, and now as his brother leaned over him to gaze down at him, he thought that the bees had doubled in number, making his whole body tremble as he squirmed in discomfort. And yet he could not stop his nervous laughter.

Peter pulled him back up in a gentle caress, nearly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss those soft, laughing lips, and hoping to allay it by tucking the younger boy close against himself where he could not see his brother's beauty. The temptation to lay claim to Edmund's every freckle — so like the stars of the world where they were born — with kisses and declarations of love left Peter quite breathless.

Edmund sighed in his own effort to control his breathing, and slipped one arm about his brother's waist in the narrow space for it against the wall. He could hear Peter's heartbeat with his ear pressed against that broad chest, and to his surprise it was racing faster than his own. But Peter's hand on his shoulder was moving slowly and tenderly, helping him to relax, and he closed his eyes in perfect satisfaction.

They were forced to separate when the kettle began to sing, and Edmund got up to steep the tea. After the cups were filled with the pale liquid, he sat by Peter's side while they sipped it, not wanting to risk spilling it by clambering on top of his brother. But he kept his thigh pressed against Peter's, not knowing how much the heat of that touch was troubling the responsible firstborn — though of course, in preparation for being in such close contact with Edmund, Peter had made sure that his normally loose undergarments were pulled tight to prevent his wayward member from betraying his lust.

They munched on the sticky pudding in companionable silence, washing it down with chamomile tea and trying to lick the toffee off of their fingers. When that proved to be futile, they washed their hands in the basin, each pouring the water out of the ewer for the other.

"Well, goodnight then," Edmund said hesitantly as he stood by the open glass door to the balcony.

"Goodnight, Ed," Peter replied, gazing at his brother's form as though seeing something bright from a distance. Suddenly he stepped closer to Edmund, wrapping him in strong arms and placing a damp kiss on his forehead. Before the startled younger boy could respond, his brother had stepped away, gently prodding him through the door. "Sweet dreams," Peter wished him as he closed the door behind him.

Somewhat dazed, Edmund entered his own room and crawled into his bed. The bees seemed confused, too, as they darted around within him. Part of the problem was that his stomach, which had been so full just moments ago from all the pastries, felt as though it had disappeared entirely from his body. But it had been replaced with a warm glow that stayed with him until he drifted off to sleep, a happy smile curling his lips.

Peter, meanwhile, had waited until he was certain that Edmund was in bed, then finally freed his manhood from its prison of cloth. With fervour and haste he sought his release, the silken touch of his brother's skin still lingering on his lips, and released his passion while gasping his brother's name. It was with shame that he dragged himself into his bed, but notwithstanding his self-revilement, the physical exertion allowed him to fall into a deep sleep, haunted only by the giggling laughter of Edmund, his love.


	27. Philosophy on the Beach

My Fair Brother

* * *

As the weather grew warmer, the royal children found themselves irresistibly drawn to the waters of the Great Sea, and clambered down the many flights of stairs that led to the sandy beach to the south of the castle. At first Susan and Lucy had exchanged worried whispers about the ocean reminding Peter of the Mermaid, but since their eldest brother seemed just as eager as they were to splash about in the water, and had, indeed, become more like his old self in the past few weeks, they hoped that his infatuation with the beautiful maiden of the sea had passed.

Per had no experience in swimming at all (as he had confessed to Edmund) so the two older Pevensies took it upon themselves to teach him. "As often as we travel to the Lone Islands and Archenland by ship," Peter pointed out, "you can't risk not being able to swim in an emergency." That the High King took the matter so seriously impressed upon Per the importance of learning this skill, and also made him realise how much his new kings and queens cared for his well-being. He earnestly applied himself and was soon comfortable enough to ride the waves in from a little distance, exhilarated by the sensation as he crashed ashore with the four siblings.

On days that there were no appointments for audiences (and the requests became fewer in the summertime, since most people had better things to do than to quarrel), the entire Court of Cair Paravel could be found at the protected cove from morning till afternoon, with everybody helping to carry down a basket or two for their picnic lunch. The sands would become covered with the five-toed footprints of the Humans, the paw prints of the Beasts, and the hoof prints of the Fauns, Satyrs, and Horses. The four-footed Beasts could not navigate the castle stairs easily, but they made their way down the steep slopes to join in the merriment. It was a very young Court, after all, headed by the royal children; and after a hundred years of winter and slavery, the festive mood was still strong in all Narnians.

One such day when the sky was dotted with puffy white clouds that made Lucy think of profiteroles (which of course Felicity wanted to learn all about), Edmund and Per were having footraces with the Dogs on the narrow strip of wet, hardened sand between the dry beach and the waves. Naturally the Dogs always won, but Edmund had managed to awaken the latent competitiveness in his squire, so the two boys thundered to a hotly-contested though good-natured finish. Peter watched in silence from where he sat on a blanket, his arms clasped about his knees and a wistful look in his eyes.

"Why do you not run, your Highness?" Arismenos (the Unicorn) asked, bending down his long neck to peer into Peter's face. "For having only two legs, your kind runs quite swiftly; and a foal of your tender years (begging your Majesty's pardon) ought to be galloping for the joy of life."

"Hush, Aris," Farthur (another Unicorn and King Peter's royal mount) interjected before Peter could reply. "The High King's Grace shall do as he pleases. 'Tis not your place to say what his Majesty ought and ought not to do."

"My good Farthur, he meant no impertinence, I am sure," Peter said mildly, patting Arismenos' neck. "But the truth of the matter is, I would have no cause to boast if I won a race against those two, for I am so many years their elder; however, it would be to my great shame should I lose."

Arismenos snorted to express his doubt that the High King could be bested by the younger boys, but Farthur only bowed his head courteously to his lord. Edmund and Per came panting up just then, thirsty and exhausted, so Peter leant back to pull a flagon of lemonade from one of the baskets, fishing out two chalices as well. He was startled when Edmund threw himself down on the blanket at his feet and proceeded to rest his chin upon his older brother's upraised knee.

"Thanks, Peter — that's just the thing," the younger king said while he watched his brother pour the lemonade (a rather tricky thing for Peter to do with his hands threatening to tremble). "What are the girls up to?"

"Oh, I think they're back there with the Dwarfs," Peter answered, handing a carved wooden cup to each of the two boys. "They said something about making a sandcastle large enough for Felicity."

"Ah! So that's why those chaps are carrying buckets of water," Edmund said, squinting a bit to see the activity better. "I thought the one they made last time was pretty amazing, but I see now they've moved the place even further back from the water's edge. It'll probably be safe there until the next spring tide."

Per drank his lemonade in silence while Edmund chatted between gulps about their race, upbraiding Peter for not having joined them. The High King only made vague excuses, and kept his eyes focused resolutely on the horizon of the sea, which made King Edmund wonder — with a pang and worrisome prickles in his stomach — whether his old malady (as he thought of Peter's infatuation) might have returned.

In a sense he was right, for Peter was trying hard not to stare at Edmund, who was flushed from the exercise and wearing a winsome smile that set his eyes alight, which might have melted even the most hardened heart. Peter lay no claim to possessing such cold sensibilities, and since his brother was lounging on his knee as though it were his own, just inches from his nose, it was almost impossible to keep his eyes off of him. They were both wearing their bathing clothes — loose knee pants over their undergarments with baggy, short-sleeved tunics, now beginning to dry out from their first dip in the water — and Edmund had a few grains of sand caught in his hair that Peter wanted desperately to brush out for him. He poured another cupful of lemonade and sipped it, just to give himself something to do, and returned his gaze to the distant line where the blue sky met the blue ocean.

Edmund followed his brother's gaze, suddenly struck with the suspicion that perhaps he was staring out at the Mermaid of his obsession; however, the waters were devoid of any Merfolk, and the younger king nearly laughed aloud at his momentary lapse in memory.

_He __**said**__ there was no Mermaid,_ he reminded himself, _or at least, that he wasn't in love with any Mermaid. He can't say who it is he __**is**__ in love with, but as he seems to be sleeping better and acting more like himself, I suppose I shouldn't worry... although I do wish he would tell me, at least. I __**can**__ keep a secret! But Peter's made up his mind, and he's so honorable that he'll probably really keep his oath till the day he dies..._

Edmund observed his brother's countenance without a word for several minutes, while both of them were lulled by the sound of the waves rolling in. The two Unicorns stayed at a respectful distance, as though standing guard over the two kings, and Per had wandered over to where the Dwarfs were building the queens a sandcastle of monumental proportions.

"Penny for your thoughts," Edmund finally said, breaking the silence.

"What? Oh," Peter responded. "I'm not sure they're worth it."

"Let me be the judge of that. You're the one who said, after all, that I'm a 'wiser judge' in a lot of things."

"I suppose I did," Peter answered with a wry smile. "Well, I'm afraid they're not pleasant thoughts, actually..."

He had only meant to glance at Edmund, but finding those large brown eyes fixed upon his own, he could not help but return the frank gaze. He almost lost his train of thought, but swallowed and continued his confession.

"You know how they say that beyond the sea is Aslan's Country?"

"Sure. It's where all Narnians go when they die. If they're good enough, anyway... just like Heaven."

"Right, so... what happens when **we** die? Do we go to Aslan's Country, or..."

Edmund made a low whistle.

"I say, Peter! I'd never thought of that."

"Well, like I said, it's not a pleasant thing to consider," he said apologetically. "I was just wondering, though, if we would go there, or find ourselves in Heaven like we'd always heard back in our own world — in Church, you know — or maybe even end up alive and back in England? Or worse, would our dead bodies get back to England somehow, so our people would at least know that we're dead, and have funerals and bury us and all?"

Edmund bowed his head to rest it on Peter's knee.

"Wow... I don't know... When you put it like that..."

"It's a conundrum, and one that only Aslan knows the answer to, I suppose," Peter agreed. "The funny thing is, the more I think about it, the more I'd rather go to Aslan's Country than the Heaven we learned about in our own world."

"I suppose you could ask Aslan if he'd let you choose," Edmund remarked, looking up again with intense interest. "After all, he asked you to be High King of Narnia, so wouldn't your place be with the Narnians?"

"That's what I tend to think, too," Peter nodded. "But I was also wondering, maybe Aslan's Country and Heaven are one and the same."

"Oh!" Edmund gasped, startled and yet inspired by the idea. "That would be... That would be amazing! We could see Grandfather again, and all our other family — even the ones we never knew, or can't remember since we were too young."

"Right. But here's another thought," Peter began, then paused. "I wouldn't mention this to the girls, but suppose... suppose Mother's been killed in an air raid, and Father's died in the War."

"Peter! That's an awful thought," Edmund protested, looking truly shaken.

"I know, and I'm sorry. But I'm only bringing it up because I think it makes sense: that Aslan brought us all here because, back home, we'd be orphans."

Edmund sat bolt upright and stared at his brother, openmouthed, for a long moment. The bees in his stomach, which had been humming happily while he'd sat there by Peter's feet, were now frozen. He took a deep breath after realising that he'd been holding it, and as he expelled it, he felt more normal again.

"I think you're right, Pete," he conceded, his voice low but steady. "For all we know, Mum and Dad could've been dead before we walked through the wardrobe, or before we even arrived at the Professor's."

"England could be overrun by the Germans by now," Peter sighed, "and we'd be none the wiser."

"I suppose that could be why it didn't bother us, you know — staying here to rule Narnia, even though Mum would be worried sick if she knew that we'd, well... disappeared."

"I think so. It's never troubled us like it should have under normal circumstances, anyway. And I also think that Aslan knew when we'd need to come over — for I don't doubt that he **made** it so we would come when we did, and not a minute sooner or later (remember when we checked the wardrobe, after Lucy's first visit?) — and had prepared the four thrones for us, as well as the prophecy, hundreds of years in advance."

Edmund considered this, speechless by the enormity and intricacy of the plan Peter was proposing, with his eyes cast out over the sand and the sea. Peter took this opportunity to wrench his gaze away from his brother's captivating face, and joined him in watching the waves rush in.

"I think you're right," the younger king murmured after a long while. "I know it wasn't coincidence that there were just enough thrones for the four of us, and I know jolly well that Aslan must have been behind our coming to Narnia. I even suspect that he knew what I'd do... and let me do it, even though he must've known what the consequences would be — what sort of price he'd have to pay in my stead..."

"Ed... I'm sorry," Peter started, heartsick to have reminded his brother (however inadvertently) of the hardest blot of his life.

"No, don't be," Edmund shot back. "It just makes it that much more... kind, and gracious, that Aslan would let me be king, too. That he'd prepared a throne for me, even though he knew what a wretch I was! And not like the throne the White Witch had, either, made of threats and cold magic that did nobody any good. I'm glad he let me be king, but not so I could lord it over everybody, like I wanted to do when **she** promised it to me. He showed me by example what it means: that you take the fall for what goes wrong, even if it isn't your fault, and never breathe a word of complaint at the unfairness of it all. I'm sorry for having been such an ass, but I'm grateful that he let us come here. Even if... no, **especially** if our parents are... are dead."

Peter did not even realise what he was doing until he had done it, and by then he had already grasped Edmund's hand tightly in one of his own.

"That's the other thing I was thinking, Ed," Peter said, hoping to take his brother's mind off of his past. "If Aslan's Country and our world's Heaven are the same place — although mind you, I've no proof that it **is** — then we'd be able to see Mum and Dad again, too. Or maybe... maybe it's like our world and Narnia, where there are special ways that you can get from one place to the other, and we could ask Aslan to let us go visit them. I don't think he'd mind that, you know... I think it's only proper that we tell them where we've been and what we've been doing, especially if they **have** worried over us."

"Of course. I can't imagine that he'd object to that," Edmund managed to reply. He was suddenly thirsty, but didn't want to bother filling his cup with lemonade again — at least not yet, for he was enjoying the warmth of Peter's hand wrapped around his own and did not wish to disturb it. Unfortunately, they were disrupted anyway when their sisters and Per walked up. Peter hastily withdrew his hand and turned a slightly forced smile at the others.

"You have to come see the sandcastle, Peter!" Lucy cried in excitement, plopping down on the blanket next to her oldest brother. "It's simply amazing!"

"I'm sure it is, for I can see it from here, too," Peter laughed.

"What were you two talking about just now?" Susan asked, settling herself down with more grace. "You looked so serious!"

"Oh... nothing much," Peter responded.

"Yeah — nothing you girls would be interested in," Edmund added.

"Oh! Peter!" Lucy gasped in dismay. "I'm so sorry!"

The next moment her arms were flung about his neck, and Peter tried to sort out what she meant.

"Lucy?"

She looked up at his face with tears welling in her eyes and choked out, "The Mermaid!"

He gaped at her, then gathered her up in his arms.

"Oh, Lu! **I'm** the one who should be sorry!" he moaned. "I should have told you sooner — I was never in love with a Mermaid! Ed thought I was, and I never denied it, but... Great Scott! I shouldn't have made you all worry so much..."

"Well, if it's not a Mermaid, who is it?" Lucy asked with her guileless eyes open wide in wonder.

"I can't tell. Please, Lu, don't ask me. I... It's not something I can talk about."

For a moment, Peter was truly wretched, but his sister quickly placed a forgiving kiss on his reddened cheek.

"It's all right, Peter. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," she told him.

"Why don't you come see the sandcastle?" Susan mentioned tactfully, getting up to lead the way. "It's quite the masterpiece! They made three storeys sturdy enough for Felicity to run around in."

Peter was grateful for the distraction, and walked over to inspect the sandcastle modeled after their own Cair Paravel, Lucy hanging from his arm. Edmund and Per followed more quietly, each lost in their thoughts, for Per had learned of the High King's heartache for the first time, and the younger king, having been reminded of it again, could not help wondering for the hundredth time who the object of his brother's affection was.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's taking so long — real life has been brutal. But your reviews do keep me up late at night, writing this story!


	28. DELETED Bathing Brothers in the Laundry

This chapter was not in compliance with FanFiction dot net's content policy and has been deleted. Please read this story in its entirety at my new website, TheaNishimori dot WordPress dot com.


	29. Puffy Rolls, Bellybuttons, and Logic

My Fair Brother

* * *

The two kings had only time enough to wash their hands (and for Edmund, to change his trousers) before they needed to scramble down the stairs to dinner.

"We **must** talk about this later," Peter cautioned, his face muddled with worry and guilt. "I should never have agreed to it... I should've never let you talk me into—"

"Oh, Peter! Dry up," Edmund interrupted with some exasperation as he adjusted his clothes. "You're making a great fuss over nothing. Think about it: you would've done the same thing in your own room, and only embarrassed yourself if the girls and Mr. Tumnus had heard you."

Peter sighed in resignation, realising that his brother truly had no notion of the impropriety of physically pleasuring another male, let alone a near relation.

"It's not 'nothing'! And we **will** talk about this," he reiterated, but was obliged to hold his tongue as they dashed to catch up with their sisters and the Faun.

Dinner felt tedious to Peter, since he had to try his best to be engaging to their guest, the courier from Archenland; but to his relief Queen Susan was as charming as ever and kept most of the knight's attention. Edmund smiled beatifically and had extra helpings of everything, his appetite apparently whetted by their activity, and Peter caught himself envying his brother for his unperturbed conscience.

_It seems almost cruel to teach him how wrong it is,_ the High King thought to himself, playing with his potatoes, _but it __**must**__ be done — if for no other reason, to keep him from begging me to do that again! It's clear now that I have no restraint where Edmund is concerned, so I must simply make sure to not be caught in tempting situations. And Ed must learn to stay within the bounds of decorum. Of course, the hard part is to teach him where those bounds are... _

Peter managed to endure the rest of the evening, which was quite pleasant otherwise. Some of the Fauns entertained them with music, and one of the Centaurs told the story of how King Frank and Queen Helen (who were the ancestors of King Lune and Queen Primela) had become the first monarchs of Narnia. When they finally left the Great Hall, Lucy invited Faril to join them in the den for a game of chess, which at least took Peter's mind off of his worries while he watched his sister play a well-matched game with the knight. Of course, Faril might not have been playing at his best, since Susan talked to him throughout the match, trying to get some information out of the taciturn knight that would help in their preparations for King Lune's visit.

Peter found his eyes wandering over to where Edmund lay on the floor with Per, playing a separate game with the wooden chess set (and occasionally letting Per take one of his pieces). The oldest Pevensie, despite his penitence at his most recent lapse in self-control, could not help staring at the curves of his brother's backside and legs, and had to wrench his gaze away with some effort.

The children had begun to yawn early in the evening, since they had been outdoors at the beach almost all day; however, when Mrs. Hoppinger pushed a cart laden with tea things into the room, they perked up immediately. Not only had Felicity prepared chamomile tea for everyone, she had also taken Queen Lucy and Queen Susan's descriptions of profiteroles and made some quite passable facsimiles thereof.

"Puffy rolls!" Lucy cried in delight, using the term coined by Peter when he had been very small. "Oh, Felicity! They look **marvelous!**"

"They **smell** marvelous, too," Susan said, admiring the pastries as she helped the Stoat serve them out.

"Are they filled with pudding?" Mr. Tumnus asked, inhaling the sweet aroma.

"Creamy custard," Peter answered him, his mouth watering already. "Felicity, I ought to say that you shouldn't have gone to so much trouble, but I must admit, I'm glad you did!"

She beamed all over her sleek, furry face as she stood on her hindquarters and clasped her paws together, her whiskers twitching nervously as she waited for them to take the first bite. Of course the "puffy rolls" were delectable, and she was soon basking in the praise she deserved, even from Faril, who — though he had never had a profiterole before — declared that it was the most delicious pastry he had ever tasted.

"I think we should plan on serving these to our friends from Anvard, when they come," Susan remarked after savouring the last bite.

"Oh, do let's!" Lucy agreed.

"You might need to practice making them a few times before then, though," Edmund suggested with a sly grin, eliciting a round of laughter, and after finishing their cups of tea, the group dispersed to retire to their own rooms.

###

Peter had barely finished changing into his nightshirt when Edmund tapped on a glass pane of his open balcony door.

"You **did** say that you wanted to talk," he reminded when Peter glanced at him, startled.

"Yes. Yes, I did," the older boy murmured, watching him saunter into the room.

"I suppose you want to lecture me on how wrong it was to do what we did," Edmund said with a casual shrug of his shoulders, "and how wrong it was of you to give in to what I wanted." He plopped down on Peter's bed, then leant back on his elbows to regard his brother.

"So you **do** understand," Peter responded dryly, although he knew well enough that Edmund was only parroting what he had heard him say before. Peter sat beside him on the bed, keeping a safe distance away, and feeling wearier than he had in a long while.

"I think I understand what you're trying to say. But I'd like to hear you go through it again, point by point," Edmund stated. He was feeling rather magnanimous at the moment, for all of the disappointment and bitterness he had felt before (upon Peter's declaration that their intimate contact was impermissible) had been quite thoroughly dispersed when he had discovered, much to his surprise and delight, that this was not altogether the case — he merely needed to ask Peter at the right moment in order for him to succumb to his wishes. Even the fact that their bedtime tea had been served in the den with the others, precluding his chance to sit on Peter's lap, hardly bothered him now.

"All right, then," Peter sighed, running his hands through his hair as though that would help him to straighten out his thoughts. "Where to begin? Well, first of all, it's not natural for... for two boys to get involved in this sort of... intimate behaviour."

Edmund cocked an eyebrow while his lips curved upwards in sardonic humour. "But it **would** be natural to have a **girl** do that? Come on, Peter — you know jolly well that they wouldn't know what to do!"

"W—Well, of course not! But it would be **different**, you know, with a girl — that is, with a woman. When you're married."

"Oh, right. Because you'd be making babies."

"Exactly."

"And you said they have a special place in their body where a boy's — or a man's — thing would fit."

"So I've heard," Peter responded. "And please don't ask me any more about that, for I really don't know. Father said he would explain everything when he got back..."

"I'm guessing it has something to do with their belly buttons."

"Um... belly buttons?"

"Well, think about it! When you see a lady who's in a family way, it's her belly that's sticking out, right?" Edmund remarked, sitting up and outlining a protruding belly with his hands. "So if that's where the baby is, it stands to reason that you'd plant the seed, so to speak, near there. I'm guessing that girls' belly buttons are different from ours."

"I suppose," Peter said uncomfortably. "I always figured it was in the same place on **them** as, you know... ours is on **us**."

"Oh! Golly, you may have something there," Edmund said, considering the idea. "I guess we could ask Susan about it if... if we needed to."

"I don't much relish that thought."

"Me either."

The boys lapsed into silence for a moment, then Peter tried to start afresh.

"**Any**how, the whole purpose of it is to make babies, and it's not something we should play around with."

"But Peter," Edmund countered, "it's not 'playing,' it's practicing! You said so yourself, and that's what Father told you. And besides, it's not like we can **not** do anything, when it gets that way."

"Yes, but... we shouldn't be doing it with someone else! It should be **private**," Peter replied, already sensing the beginnings of that sinking feeling which signified defeat.

"All right, I can see the sense in not... 'sharing' it (as you phrased it) with a stranger," Edmund conceded. "But really, if it's something that Father would be teaching us if he were here, then since he **isn't** here, the next logical person to fill his shoes is you. As much as you can, anyway."

Peter looked at his brother in dismay.

"Yes, but... even Father never **touched** me. Not there. Not like... like **that!**"

Edmund dismissed this with a shrug. "You said just now that he hadn't explained **everything** to you yet. Maybe he would have, when you got older."

Peter gaped, then swallowed, and spoke again.

"Look, Ed... I was at school for a good deal longer than you, and... well... I've seen some rum things, all right? And one thing I **do** know is that it's not **decent** for two boys to... to do the sort of things we've done. It... It simply isn't **right**."

"But you're talking about two boys who're just friends and schoolmates, right? Not two **brothers**."

"Well, yes. But I've never heard of any brothers who... who were involved like this."

"So? You said yourself that this is a private matter. And I wouldn't be too keen on talking to anybody else about it, myself. So even if there **were** other brothers who helped each other out like this, you wouldn't necessarily have heard about it. That doesn't surprise me."

Peter felt as though his room — perhaps even the world — were slightly off-kilter, and that he was beginning to slide off of it.

"There's still the matter of incest," he said, grasping at whatever handhold he could find on sanity.

"It **would** be if we were making babies," Edmund pointed out, "but the fact is, we **can't**. We're not even doing the same thing as we would with a girl! It's totally different, like you said, and to be honest I don't think it's even sex, really. It's just practicing for it, making sure that everything is working all right."

Closing his eyes in weariness, Peter groaned and lay back on his bed. Edmund turned to gaze down upon his brother, and felt the bees (which had been humming happily ever since Peter had touched him and helped him achieve release that afternoon) press against his insides, giving him a surge of warmth. He lay down beside Peter and snuggled against his chest affectionately.

"Look here, Pete. I think you're doing a great job of standing in for Dad, even if you haven't figured out everything yet. I just wish you wouldn't beat yourself up for every little thing, especially when I don't think you've done anything wrong!"

Peter took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. His arms had wrapped themselves around his brother's slender form almost on their own, and he could not deny that it was extremely comfortable to hold him so close, to feel him resting in perfect repose against his own body. He was so tired, and his mind was so numb, that he would have gladly fallen asleep in that attitude.

"Ed, I need you to at least... respect the fact that I have a problem with this whole... situation," he said, choosing his words. "And I think I've already given you the reasons for it: first of all, because we're being... intimate, or doing something that feels (to me, anyway) like it should be a very private matter. Second, because we're both boys, and it's... unnatural. Our bodies are made so that we can have babies, and this whole... process, if you will, is meant for that. It just doesn't seem **right** to... well, to relieve ourselves like this, and... enjoy it." Peter blushed furiously as he admitted this last part, but doggedly continued. "I know it feels good, and I'm not denying that, but... just because something **feels** good, doesn't necessarily mean that it's **right**. You of all people should know that."

Edmund acknowledged this in silence, thinking back to the Turkish Delight that the Witch had fed him. It had certainly tasted good (he could still remember how light and sweet it had been), although it had only left him hungry for more. In that respect, he suddenly realised, his desire to experience pleasure at his brother's hands certainly seemed similar to the enchanted sweet.

"Thirdly, because we're brothers," Peter went on. "Whether we're making babies or not, it just seems more... unnatural. I'm supposed to be taking care of you, like you say, in Father's stead, and part of that is to make sure you learn what's right and wrong. I mayn't be perfect myself, but I want to do my level best with you. And I really don't think that... indulging in this sort of activity is... helpful."

"Maybe we could ask Aslan," Edmund finally spoke up, "if he ever comes back."

"I've wished to talk to him about this, as well as a lot of other things," Peter said, almost to himself. "But before I forget, there's one more reason why I'm so worried that... that we've been going about this all wrong: and that is how young you are, Ed. You're still only a kid, and I don't want you to be doing something that... well... is best left for when you're grown up."

"Oh, Peter!" Edmund protested. "If my body's old enough to be doing this, I should think I'm old enough already!" He pushed himself up off of his brother so he could look down into his face. "And as for your other concerns, I can respect that you have them, but I really don't agree. First off, because it's not like we're doing the same thing as we would with a girl — our wife, I mean — to make a baby. Second, because a girl **couldn't** know what it feels like for a boy, so only another boy (or a man, like Father) would know how to teach it to start with. And third (or whatever — I forget what order you made your points) because I wouldn't go to a **stranger** to teach me something like this, when I have a brother! It makes perfect sense to me that **you** should be the one I should go to."

Now Peter felt as though he really **had** slipped off the edge of the world, with nothing beneath him to keep him from falling. Point by point, Edmund had knocked out every one of his objections, and like a table with no legs, his reasoning had fallen flat.

"Oh, Ed..." he murmured, unable to form another coherent thought, let alone to argue.

"If it makes you feel any better," Ed said in a softer voice, seeing how distressed his brother was, "I'll think it over. You had a point when you said how just because something **feels** good, doesn't necessarily mean that it **is** good; but I want you to at least consider that, on the other hand, just because something feels good, doesn't necessarily mean that it's **bad**."

Peter opened his eyes to find Edmund's brown ones looking back at him with tenderness, the candlelight flickering in their depths. It took him a long moment before he could speak again.

"All right. I'll consider it," he assented.

"All right then," Edmund replied, then bent over to place a chaste, brotherly kiss on Peter's cheek. "Good night, Pete."

"Good night."

Peter listened to Edmund's soft footfalls as he padded back to his own room, then dragged himself off of the bed so he could climb under the covers. Blessedly, he fell immediately into a deep, exhausted sleep.


	30. What is Love?

My Fair Brother

* * *

The next morning, Faril took his leave of the royal children to head back to Anvard as soon as he had finished his breakfast, and a flurry of activity in preparation for the Archenlandian state visit began. It was decided that Per should be given the room next to Edmund's after all, so while his things were moved into it, Lucy's things were moved out, with the promise that she could later use the room that Per had just vacated, which was being appointed splendidly to serve King Lune and Queen Primela for their stay. Prince Corin and his Nurse would have the room next to that, with the rest of their retinue in the ones beyond, until they ran out of rooms on the ocean side of that floor and switched to the western side, overlooking the hills and forests of Narnia.

At least Faril had given them a rough count of the guests, so they knew how many rooms to air out and set fresh linens in. Per busied himself with helping Mrs. Dumplesugar and the other laundresses, while King Edmund and King Peter could be found upstairs, moving dressers and mirrors around under the direction of Queen Susan (who had an eye for such things). The heavier furniture was left to the Minotaurs to move, the Dwarfs built some last-minute items, and the Ravens did their part by spreading word of the royal visit. The Narnians who lived along the road to Archenland made certain that the path was swept and clean, while some of the Dryads planted flowers that would bloom in time for the procession. Many of the generous Narnian Creatures brought baskets of early-ripening fruits to the castle, as well as sacks of wheat and other grains, so that there would be nothing lacking to welcome their neighbors from the South.

###

That evening when Peter stepped into his room after his bath, he found Edmund and Per already setting a little table by the window, next to his easy chair.

"Ah, there you are," Edmund greeted him. "Felicity thought it might be too warm for a fire tonight, let alone a hot cup of tea, so she brewed this and had it cooling in the cellar all afternoon. It's not exactly iced tea, but it's quite well chilled."

"That does sound more appealing than hot tea, especially in this heat," Peter replied, sitting down. "Bless her for thinking of it!"

The flagon and glass goblets were already glistening with condensation from the warm, southeasterly wind that was blowing in from the ocean. Per filled his own goblet and set it on a separate tray, along with a turnover, before bidding the kings goodnight and retiring to his new room via the balcony.

"What kind are these?" Peter asked, picking up one of the turnovers.

"Cherry almond with some custard," Edmund told him while settling on the ottoman. "She asked me what kind you liked best, but I had to admit I didn't know."

"Well, if she asks again," Peter mumbled with his mouth half full, then swallowed, "tell her that whatever she makes is fine by me. She's a most excellent cook!"

"Mmm-hmm!" Edmund agreed, and for a few moments they devoured the turnovers in silence. The chamomile tea had a dash of lemon in it, which slaked their thirst and left them feeling refreshed. While sipping it, the younger boy noticed that his brother's gaze had wandered out over the sea again, with that far-off, wistful expression that seemed to denote Peter's heartache over his unnamed love.

_I wonder who it is... and why Peter's so sure that she won't love him back. Maybe she's someone who couldn't possibly marry him, like the Mermaid — which could be any number of people, I suppose, including the Talking Beasts. Although they say King Frank and Queen Helen's children married Nymphs and Dryads, so she must not be one of those... unless she's already married? _

Wondering got him no closer to an answer, so Edmund set his goblet on the table and dragged the ottoman closer to Peter's chair.

"I say, do you suppose it's too warm to... you know?"

"I'm sorry?" Peter asked in confusion, snapping his attention back to his brother (although, in a way, it had never left him).

Edmund could not help blushing as he rambled, "It's all right if you're too hot and would rather not, since we've had a long day and I'm sure you're just as tired as I am after moving all that stuff around, but if it's all the same to you — that is, if you don't think it would wear you out any more, I just thought it would be nice to... you know... if I could sit on your lap for a bit."

The manner in which he presented his request would have taxed Peter's patience beyond endurance just a few years ago, but now the older boy listened with a placidity that would have amazed his parents (could they have seen it). Although he had grown to have more forbearance as the High King, his calm was due in large part to the fact that Edmund's cheeks were a lovely shade of rose, his lips bright and dewy from drinking the cold tea, mesmerizing Peter while he spoke.

"Of course," he answered, shifting in the chair to get more comfortable. "Why didn't you just say so? I've told you not to worry — you might be gaining on me in weight, but it's not like you'll crush me. Here, we can both put our feet up, so if you lie back a little, it'll be just fine..."

It was more than just fine, Peter realised, tucking his arms around Edmund's slim torso. Having his brother's curly hair tickling his chin, with the boy's soft buttocks pressed against his sensitive male organ, felt more like a luxurious sin. When his body responded to the close contact, he hoped that the added pressure would not be noticeable to Edmund; but he need not have worried. The younger king was not only comfortable and content, but also distracted by a puzzle which he had posed to himself: namely, how to ask Peter more about his mysterious, one-sided love without breaking his promise to not ask directly about the (supposed) maiden.

As Edmund pondered this, Peter reveled in holding him close. For a while the older boy was almost beside himself with joy just to have his brother in his arms, but as their sleepy silence lengthened, he began to question why Edmund had asked for this privilege again — especially when it was quite warm, and their contact only increased the heat.

"Ed," he murmured, "you've not been having nightmares, have you?"

"No. Not lately," Edmund answered, then paused. It had just occurred to him, a moment too late, that an evasive answer on this point might have served him better. But he played with Peter's fingers, threading his own through them, and merely added, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, it seemed rather odd, that's all... that you'd want to sit so close, when it's sweltering hot."

"It's not **that** hot," he objected, placing his brother's hands flat against his ribs once more. "Besides, it's... tradition, now."

"Oh, is it?" Peter said with a helpless smile. "I wasn't aware."

Edmund twisted to look up at him, having decided on the simplest, most direct question of all.

"Say, Pete... What's it like to be in love?"

Peter's face fell, his amusement snuffed out like a candle. His first thought was how to answer without alerting Edmund to the true object of his affection; his second was how to describe the condition to someone who did not have any frame of reference. As he wracked his brain for ideas, Edmund saw the anguish in his expression and regretted having asked it at all.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to remind you," he began, but Peter shook his head and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"It's all right — I just had to think about it for a moment. It's like... It's a lot like being in a candy store, but not having any money to buy anything," he finally decided, considering how much he would have liked to kiss Edmund (and not on his forehead) just now.

"That's horrible! I think I'd rather not go **into** the store if I couldn't buy anything," Edmund reflected.

"Exactly. But once you're there, you can't help looking."

The little sigh with which Peter delivered that last remark went straight to his brother's heart.

"Oh, Peter!" he cried, turning around to wrap his arms around his older sibling's neck, never realising that he was, in effect, bringing the candy store to him — waving the candy right under his nose. Peter ruefully accepted the embrace, scolding himself for wanting more when his brother already cared for him so much. But still he could not bring himself to release Edmund, who (thankfully) seemed happy enough to stay clasped in his arms, despite the near-stifling warmth.

"I do wish she would — or could — like you," Edmund whispered in Peter's ear, his brows drawn in deep concern.

"Thanks," Peter replied, not knowing how else to respond. For a moment, each boy contemplated his own thoughts, and Edmund noticed the slight stubble on Peter's jaw as he pressed his cheek against it.

"How did you know you were in love?"

While straightforward enough, Edmund's next query also gave Peter pause. He gathered his thoughts and chose his words carefully.

"It's hard to explain, but at first... you just **like** someone. You notice what they're doing, and then you realise that you're watching them a lot — maybe even all the time. You can't **not** notice them, even if you try. And you want them to like you, too, and don't want to do anything foolish in case it makes them think less of you, so you get nervous when you're around them — like before an important examination at school," Peter described, warming to his subject as he found that in this manner he was able to avoid using female pronouns. For he was a very truthful person, and did not wish to deceive his brother again as he had about the Mermaid. "Sometimes I actually get butterflies in my stomach when I know I'll be doing something in front of... this person," he stated.

"Butterflies?" Edmund echoed, startled.

Peter nodded. "Like when you're in a hurry to get something over with, but have to wait. That's the worst! But then, sometimes, you can be so incredibly happy just because you're with them, even if you aren't doing anything special — even if you're doing something so ordinary that you'd otherwise be bored about it." He was thinking, of course, of when they had been moving furniture together earlier that day. "Just a smile or a laugh from that person can make you feel warm and cozy, right down to your toes. You want to be with them all the time because it feels so wonderful. And sometimes, when you see them having a good time with someone else, it can make you awfully jealous — even though you know jolly well that you shouldn't be, and ought to be happy for them."

Edmund swallowed hard and did not respond. While Peter reminisced how he had felt when he had seen his younger brother leaving the castle with Per and Felicity, Edmund was reminded of how he had felt when he had seen Peter and Susan walking together in the garden. The hornets' angry stings, he was certain, had been pangs of jealousy; might not the bees' buzzing be similar to the butterflies which Peter had just described? But Peter droned on, not realising that his brother was on the cusp of an epiphany.

"In some ways it changes your whole world... or at least how you see it. The sun shines brighter, flowers smell sweeter, and even water tastes better — or they seem to, anyhow... and you want your love to experience it all. You want to give them everything that's good and pleasant, and protect them from everything that's bad. You'd do **any**thing to keep them from getting hurt—"

Here he stopped abruptly, halted by the memory of the one time that he had been powerless to do anything to save his brother from harm; of how Aslan had paid the ransom for Edmund with his own life; and how, that very day, he had thought that Edmund had been killed on the battlefield, in front of his very eyes, and he had been helpless to prevent it. Without realising it, he gripped Edmund so tightly that the smaller boy gasped.

"Peter! Ow!" he protested, and Peter suddenly recollected himself and released him.

"Sorry... Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Edmund panted, drawing in a deep breath and settling more comfortably against Peter's shoulder. "But you really feel all that — all those different emotions, just from being in love?"

"I think so. That is, I didn't feel any of them before," Peter replied in a hushed voice. "I know it seems like a lot, but you don't think about it all when you're feeling it — you couldn't. But it's hard to describe... And as far as knowing if you're in love, you just **know**. After all, there's really nothing else quite like it."

Edmund pondered this for a while. There was so much that he did not understand, and much of it he had never cared to understand before, but he was curious about his brother's condition. It certainly seemed like a confusing and exhausting state to be in. But he was most concerned now with the parallels he was drawing to certain things he himself had been feeling in recent weeks.

_I only get bothered by the bees when I'm around Peter,_ he thought, feeling rather nervous and prickly-stomached now at the realisation. _And I __**do**__ get jealous when other people are with him and I'm not... He makes me feel warm and happy, especially when he's smiling, and I want to be with him — which is only natural, I suppose... I want him to have nice things, of course, and I'd hate it if anything bad were to happen to him... but of course I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to him! He's my brother, after all... Oh! Of __**course!**__ How stupid I am to not see it! __**Of course**__ I feel this way about Peter, since I love him as my __**brother**__. And even if I don't love him romantically — and how __**could**__ I, anyway, when we're both boys! — they're both a kind of love, so naturally they'd be rather similar. _

Much relieved, he smiled at himself and almost chuckled out loud at his own flight of fancy.

_And here I was, ready to believe that I was in love with my own __**brother!**__ What a mercy I didn't say anything to Peter — I would've never lived it down! _

He snuggled closer to Peter, resting his forehead against his brother's neck. Peter, on his part, felt surprisingly better for having made a confession of sorts to the very one who had inspired these feelings in him.

_It's the next best thing to telling him how I feel about him, I suppose,_ Peter contemplated with a melancholy smile on his lips. _At least he cares about how I feel, even if he doesn't know it's for him. _

They half-sat, half-lay there for a few minutes more until Edmund broke into a yawn.

"Hey-ho! Time to turn in, I guess," he admitted, although he did not move to leave.

"Not here, though," Peter chided, gently sitting up and forcing him into a more vertical position. "I know it's too warm for the woolen blankets, but you should still get under the light coverlets at least. The wind will turn cool before dawn."

"I suppose you're right," Edmund sighed, finally standing up and stretching. Peter also stretched his cramped muscles, only now aware of how long they had stayed in the chair.

"I just hope Susan doesn't have us moving more furniture again tomorrow," Edmund groused, pausing as he headed out the open balcony door. "I think even the Minotaurs were getting tired."

"Let's hope she starts in on decorating," Peter suggested. "Vases and cushions are rather easier to move about."

Edmund nodded, but instead of leaving, he came back to fling his arms around his startled brother.

"I'm sorry you can't get any candy," he confided, "but I'm glad you can talk to me about such things. Goodness knows I could never bring myself to ask Susan!"

Peter found his arms wrapping around Edmund's shoulders as well.

"Well, uh... of course," he muttered in reply. Then he placed a tender kiss on the top of Edmund's head. "Good night, Ed. Sweet dreams."

"G'night, Peter."

And with that mutual benediction, they both found peaceful repose as they lay in their separate beds, the warm salt breezes washing over them.


	31. A Close Call and Hiding in the Hedges

My Fair Brother

* * *

The next day turned out to be equally busy for the denizens of Cair Paravel and the surrounding area, as final preparations were made to welcome their guests. Edmund and Per helped the Fauns sweep the lesser-used balconies and ramparts, using long-handled brooms to clean out cobwebs from the roofed look-out towers, just in case King Lune should wish to view the Narnian landscape from them. In the process they unintentionally disturbed a few Owls (who were, of course, sleeping, since they were awake during the night), who still courteously assured the young king that they would take care of any bats that might wander near the castle.

"It's not that we dislike them," Edmund explained to Per, "but they aren't Talking Beasts, so they **will** leave their droppings everywhere and make a mess. Susan is a bit particular about that sort of thing — and it **is** rather nasty to step in if you're not paying attention."

Meanwhile Peter was seeing to the preparations of their guests' rooms, which was directed by Susan and Mrs. Dumplesugar, as well as the readiness of the kitchens, which was supervised by Felicity with Lucy's assistance. He conferred with the Centaurs in planning for a royal hunt in the lands west of the Northern Marsh, for they could forecast the weather and advise him as to the abundance or lack of game. In addition, Peter asked some Ravens to get the word out about the hunt so that no Talking Beast would be caught there unawares, and requested that those Creatures who devoured insects to be particularly voracious in that area to ensure their guests' comfort and enjoyment.

Mealtimes were hastily snatched affairs, but by the time Susan and Lucy finally took their turn in the bath, most of the preparations were done to everyone's satisfaction. Edmund and Per took the next turn bathing (for Peter insisted that he had a few more things to do), and Peter went last, wondering if his brother would be too tired to visit him that evening. However, it did not even occur to Edmund to abandon their newly-established "tradition," so Peter entered his room to find him waiting with chilled chamomile tea and some shortbread rounds.

"Felicity apologised for not making anything fancier. I told her not to fuss, especially when it's so hot out, and the ovens make it even worse in the kitchens," Edmund said as Peter settled into his chair.

"They look rather fancy to me," Peter remarked, picking up one of the dimpled biscuits. "Is this strawberry jam?"

"Raspberry. She said she mixed the almond bits left over from yesterday's turnovers into the dough."

"Mmm... Delicious!" Peter declared, then took a sip of his tea. "She's really spoiling us. If we weren't working so hard lately, I'd be worried that we would start growing out of our clothes!"

"That would be embarrassing to explain to Mrs. Beaver," Edmund grinned, one cheek stuffed with shortbread. It was light and crumbly, melting in their mouths to disperse the flavour, and for a while they ate in companionable silence. Then came the moment when every last crumb had been devoured, and Peter really thought that Edmund might turn in, but the younger boy had only stood up and stretched in preparation for crawling on top of his older brother, carefully trying to not trample his thighs. Edmund flung his own legs over an armrest and sat sideways so that he could look up at Peter as they talked — mostly about their plans for entertaining their guests — and mentally counted the freckles on his brother's face and neck, trying to make out constellations.

Both of them being tired, their conversation grew steadily sleepier and more desultory, and after Peter had rambled at some length about where best to set up the pavilion for the hunt, Edmund did not respond. Peter observed that the younger boy's eyes were closed and his breathing, though quiet, was too slow for consciousness.

"Oh, Edmund," he moaned, gazing longingly at the pink lips that were slightly parted. He pulled the boy closer with the arm that was already cradling him, and was tempted to drift off to sleep like that, but worried that if his arm relaxed completely, Edmund might fall back over the armrest and get hurt. He also considered laying Edmund to rest in the nearby bed and slipping in next to him, but knew that it would be much too great a temptation to resist. The best course of action, he decided, was to carry him to his own room, tuck him into his own bed, and leave him there.

Peter's arms and legs were weary from the day's work, but after pressing a quick kiss to his brother's forehead, he hoisted him and stood up to make his tedious way out to the balcony, and from there into Edmund's room. He was thankful that his brother had left the balcony door open, and that Mrs. Dumplesugar or one of the other ladies had turned down the bed, so that he was able to walk in and slide Edmund's body under the covers with relative ease. He was panting a bit from the exertion, and took a minute to rest and study his brother's calm face again. The tender lips looked so inviting, as if they were waiting for a kiss to awaken their master (just like the princess in the story in their own world), that Peter actually leaned in to do so, but at the last moment wrested himself to place the kiss on Edmund's cheek.

_My love... My beautiful Edmund!_ he pined, his heart aching with desire — not simply to kiss him, but to hold him, pet him, and lay his soft skin bare to touch and worship with his hands and lips. He swallowed hard while scolding himself to leave before he did anything he would regret, but could not resist placing another kiss on his brother's temple, right in his curly hair — how he loved each wayward strand of it!

"Goodnight, Ed," he whispered, and turned to leave.

"Goodnight, Pete," came the answer, followed by a giggle. Peter whipped around to see his brother's eyes open, glinting mischievously in the moonlight.

"**Hey!** You could've spared me the trouble," Peter began indignantly, although he was more shocked by the realisation of how close he had come to kissing Edmund on the mouth, which would have required an explanation that he was not prepared to give. "I ought to thrash you, you little stinker!"

Edmund only giggled harder as Peter stepped menacingly towards the bed, exuding ire; he was secure in the knowledge that his brother's threats were empty.

"Well, I really **was** asleep," he explained in a placating tone, "until you knocked my foot against the door jamb there, coming in. Then I figured I oughtn't startle you in case you dropped me on my head."

"I wouldn't've," Peter protested, his irritation dissipating as his heartbeat returned to a more normal pace. "You know I wouldn't have let you fall!"

"I know," Edmund replied, still snickering, "but I wanted to see how you'd tuck me in. I half expected you to sing me a lullaby!"

Peter hoped that in the darkness of the room, Edmund would not be able to see how flushed he was. In this he was quite safe, since the light was at his back, casting his face in deep shadow.

"Well, now you know," he grumbled, "and it's better than you deserve! I'm dog-tired, too, and I'd like to see how well **you** would manage if you had to carry **me** back to my room."

"Oh, I wouldn't manage at all," Edmund promptly answered. "But if you're too tired to walk back on your own, you can stay here. I'll move over a bit."

_Aslan, help me!_ Peter thought, gritting his teeth as he heard Edmund rustling under the covers. After a moment he was able to say, sounding calmer than he felt, "I'm not that feeble yet, by gum. Go to sleep now — we have a busy day tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Peter. And thanks."

Long after his older brother's silhouette had disappeared from his room, however, Edmund lay awake with a strange excitement strumming through him. The bees were buzzing so hard in his stomach and chest that at times they were almost painful. And Edmund reached up to touch the spot on his cheek, wondering if it were only his imagination that made it seem like that spot was still warm from his brother's kiss.

###

The royal party from Archenland arrived at Cair Paravel late the next morning, as Glosbeak the Raven had flown in to assure the children. They had camped in the woods near the road the night before, and had been entertained by the good Dwarfs and Creatures who lived in the vicinity, so that they were already feeling festive and relaxed — not at all like some vacations where only the destination is nice. Prince Corin was in his glory, getting spoiled by the Beasts and Dryads who made much of him, but once in the castle grounds, he was ready to run about and expend some of his seemingly never-ending energy.

"It's been a long way to travel, I'm sure, cooped up in the carriage," Queen Susan said indulgently. "He'll be safe exploring the gardens — the only trouble might be finding him to bring him in for lunch."

"I'll go with him," Edmund offered, taking the boy's hand to keep him from dashing away from his Nurse. "We can play hide-and-seek in the hedges. Eh, Corin?"

"I hide!" he gleefully announced, and nearly dragged Edmund towards the shady hedgerows, which were set up rather like a maze, only much easier to get in and out of. Edmund made the little prince promise upon his word of honour to not go off on his own before he would release the boy's hand. Corin took off like an arrow the instant he was let go, and Edmund smiled as he turned into a bush to start counting.

The first time Edmund found him quite easily, as he had crawled under a hedge but had left his feet exposed; then Edmund hid behind a tree, making sure that his sword (which he was wearing for this formal visit of state) was sticking out for Corin to spot. They continued on in this manner until one turn, Edmund had trouble finding the boy. He thought he had heard the patter of tiny footsteps go further into the shrubbery, so he stealthily crept deeper into the garden. He heard a noise on the other side of a hedge and burst through with the words "Found you!" ready to be shouted in triumph.

However, what he found was not Prince Corin, but Per, held tightly in the arms of Darian, the knight with whom he had sparred at Anvard. And not only being held, but kissed as well. Not a simple peck on the cheek at that, but an eager, ravenous kiss which (for one confusing moment) looked to Edmund as though Darian were trying to devour the younger boy.

"What the **devil?**" Edmund cried in surprise, causing the other two to jump in shock. Per hastily disentangled himself from Darian's embrace, red-faced, and Darian gaped at Edmund with something akin to horror.

"Sorry — I didn't mean to startle you like that," Edmund began, feeling a little bad at how shaken they seemed, "but I was looking for Corin. You haven't happened to see him go by, have you?"

Per mutely shook his head, and Darian answered, "If the Prince has been this way, we have not seen him."

"Oh," Edmund responded, still looking from one to the other of them with a perplexed scowl. "What **were** you two doing, anyhow? I thought for a second that you were trying to eat Per's tongue!"

Although he had delivered this last line with a half-hearted attempt at a chuckle, the somber expressions on the other two's faces caused his feeble humour to fade away immediately.

"My Lord Edmund," Darian began, then cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable but with no way out of the situation. "I mean no discourtesy, of course, but... before your Majesties last visited Anvard, I had hoped... that is to say, I had asked Per if... if he might wish to be my squire."

"Oh!" Edmund said, his brows rising in surprise. "I didn't know! I just assumed — Peter and I both assumed — that since King Lune suggested having Per come with us, he hadn't been spoken for."

Darian shook his head and explained, "I would not say that I had any claim on him, your Majesty; only that I had asked. For his part, I daresay, Per was... hesitant. And now that I see him here, enjoying his service to you, I cannot begrudge him for an instant. Besides, my father has just sent for me to come home, so that my eldest brother, Dar, may serve our king."

"I see," Edmund replied, although he was still wondering what that had to do with them standing there, kissing. "I'm not sure whether I ought to congratulate you or not. Are you glad to be going home?"

Shrugging, Darian answered, "It is my father's will, and I will obey. I am only a third son, my Lord, and I... I do not have the means to keep many servants. And my father would not approve of... my affection for Per."

"Why not?" Edmund asked. "It's only natural that you would grow fond of your friends in Anvard, I should think!"

There was an uncomfortable pause as Darian stared at the young king, at a complete loss for words. It was Per who, although he had kept silent and looked wretched during the rest of their conversation, finally came to the knight's rescue.

"They do not have the same customs here as we do in Archenland," he said, addressing Darian, then turned to Edmund. "Your Majesty... there are certain... duties, of a squire, that you have not imposed upon me, and perhaps would not care to. I think in the world from whence you came, such things are not done. Perhaps it is something only practiced in Archenland... I do not know."

"What things? What duties?" Edmund demanded, feeling more confused.

Per faltered and glanced at Darian for help. Drawing a deep breath, the young man continued where Per had left off.

"In our land, it is customary for a young knight — before he has earned the means to take a wife — to have a squire to... serve in her stead."

Edmund's scowl deepened as he asked, "What do you mean, 'serve in her stead'? You mean cooking and keeping house and stuff?"

Again, Darian was dumbfounded, but this time Per could offer no assistance. The knight swallowed before choosing his words.

"King Edmund, perhaps you are too young to know, and... perhaps it is not a common practice in your world, but... a man may take pleasure in a boy, or another man, almost as easily as with a maid."

"'Take pleasure'?" Edmund echoed without thinking. "What do you mean by..." His voice trailed off as he saw that the other two were blushing furiously. Then it occurred to him how Peter had "helped" him with his manhood, and suddenly he was blushing just as deeply. "**Oh!** Oh... Ah, ahem. I see. Yes, of course. And this is... quite common, in Archenland?"

Both Darian and Per nodded in reply, and Darian added, "Yes. At least, among all the knights that we know. King Lune has tried to discourage the practice, but alas, some things are too deeply rooted for even our good king to prevent... though he is the best-loved king of our land for time out of mind."

"Yes, well... I see," Edmund murmured, already growing excited about telling Peter this new revelation. "And it's very helpful to the squires, I should think. At least, for those of us who don't have fathers."

"Fathers, my Lord?" Darian queried, askance.

"Well, thankfully I had my brother, who was more knowledgeable about such things," Edmund explained, relieved to discover that he was not alone (or so he thought) in his experience. "But coming here so young, and without my father, I wouldn't have known what to do if Peter hadn't shown me — especially the first time!"

Darian and Per exchanged an uncomfortable glance, which was not lost on Edmund.

"There is somewhat more to it than... what your Majesty seems to be thinking," Darian said slowly, almost unwillingly. "But perhaps this is neither the place nor the time..."

At that moment, Prince Corin popped out of the bushes and grabbed the hem of Edmund's tunic with his face wrinkled up, ready to cry in frustration.

"You don't find me!" he bawled, having waited to the end of his patience.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Edmund told him, truly remorseful. "I just got so caught up talking..." He turned to Per with a thoughtful look. "I think... we need to talk about this again, sometime. But for now, we ought to be heading back — it should be about time for lunch."

With palpable relief, Per and Darian followed Edmund as he placed Corin on his shoulders and headed into the castle, consoling the little prince with promises of delicious sweets.

* * *

A/N: I have a cookbook on food dot com with the recipes I'm using in this story — look me up as Thea Nishimori. I just created a Facebook account, too, so Friend me if you'd like! ^_^


	32. DELETED A Luncheon and a Lesson

This chapter was not in compliance with FanFiction dot net's content policy and has been deleted. Please read this story in its entirety at my new website, TheaNishimori dot WordPress dot com.


	33. A Candid Conversation

My Fair Brother

* * *

The rest of the day sped by in a haze for Edmund, for he was distracted by what he had learned from Per and could only answer half-heartedly whenever one of the guests or his own subjects addressed him.

_I suppose he meant that the whole thing could fit in... Golly! That would take some doing, especially for a grown man. Peter's not full grown, I shouldn't think, and already he's huge! No wonder Lord Bar's knight hurt Per. I wonder who it was, and if King Lune has already punished him for it... He probably has if he knew about it. Poor Per, getting stuck with a rotten ass like that! I'm surprised at Darian, though... he seems like a nice enough chap, but he really ought to leave Per alone if he knows how rough he's had it. I wonder if he even knows? Maybe Per hasn't told him, and that's why he's kept after him. He was practically __**eating**__ him with that kiss, if you could call it a kiss! Oh, well — at least he'll be leaving Anvard, so Per won't have to worry about getting pestered by him again. _

Even the scrumptious dinner was almost lost on the youngest king as he tried hard not to imagine (and squirm) how much it would hurt to have Peter's manhood pressed inside of his body. Having seen and handled it at its largest, he could hardly believe that such a feat was even possible; however, he could not discount Per's testimony, so he was left figuratively shaking his head even while he smiled and nodded as necessary to those around him.

To his relief, the conversation at the table was focused primarily on the food: the lemon celery soup, the fennel and celery salad, and the tender mutton chops drowning in a creamy mushroom sauce with fresh herbs and served with a hearty potato cheese bake. King Lune raved over every dish and insisted on meeting the cook, so finally Felicity was brought out wearing her little apron, her paws white with flour from the pastries she was preparing for their late-night snack. She blushed from all the accolades bestowed upon her (though you could hardly see it through her fur) and tried to escape to the kitchens as quickly as possible, but not before King Peter had bent down on one knee to regally kiss both of her whiskered cheeks in thanks for her hard work. A cheer went up among the Narnians at that, while the Archenlandians clapped with equal enthusiasm.

###

Since their guests had just traveled through the countryside, hot baths were a necessity to complete their hospitality; the royal children had decided to use the laundry room while their guests used the marble bath upstairs. After the girls had taken their turn, Peter joined the younger boys to save the Fauns the trouble of making hot water again just for him, especially since the laundry basin was large enough to accommodate all three of them at once. The High King studiously averted his eyes from his brother (and Per), but Edmund could not help stealing looks at Peter's sizeable equipment. At one point the younger king caught his squire's eye, glanced meaningfully at Peter, and raised one eyebrow in mute query. Per blushed but nodded in the affirmative, leaving Edmund amazed at the flexibility of the human anatomy.

They were about to get out when Peter saw some soapsuds still in Per's hair.

"Hold up! You've not washed out all the soap," he called.

"Oh, he's right — you've got some right there," Edmund pointed out, so Per turned back to the basin. The High King himself scooped up some water to rinse his hair for him.

"There, that's better," Peter declared.

"Thank you, your Majesty," Per replied, and was startled when Peter ruffled his wet hair affectionately.

"We must have you looking your best for King Lune, to set his mind at ease that you're being properly cared for here," Peter smiled, then stepped out to dry off with a towel. Edmund felt a sudden yank on his navel at his brother's casual gesture, and needed to take a deep breath to calm down and give himself a mental shake.

_Per needs to know that there are men like Peter — men he can trust,_ Edmund reminded himself. _I really must stop acting like a child! After all, Peter would do the same for me if __**I'd**__ missed a spot!_

They changed into the loose-fitting tunics and baggy trousers set out for them, since Felicity was serving their bedtime tea in the den so that the royal family of Archenland (and a select few of their retinue) could join them. Edmund had his suspicions confirmed when they walked into the den and saw Susan and Lucy chatting with not only Queen Primela but also Lady Verinia and Lady Avenel.

"We hope you are refreshed from your journey here," Peter said rather formally, addressing all three ladies.

"Very much, thank you," Queen Primela smiled. Prince Corin was yawning but sitting contentedly on Lucy's lap, and for a brief moment Edmund wondered if that was how he looked himself when he settled on Peter's lap every night. The thought was quickly pushed aside as Lady Verinia complimented King Peter on the appointments of the castle, to which the High King replied with courtesy and offered any modification that might promote their comfort. Edmund scowled without realising it, so it was a good thing that King Lune soon joined them — in good spirits from his own bath — filling the room with his jovial humour before anybody noticed Edmund's expression.

Mrs. Hoppinger and Felicity also entered soon after, pushing a cart laden with tea things and a platter of fresh peach turnovers which smelled good enough to rouse Corin from his stupor. The Beasts assured King Lune that Mrs. Griswold was offering the same fare to the other guests in their own rooms, and were pleased when the young ladies of Archenland split one turnover between them because they were still full from dinner. Even without the chamomile tea, everybody was having trouble keeping their eyes open when they retired to their several rooms.

###

Peter had some doubts again as to whether Edmund would show up, not only because of the lethargy brought on by so much good food but also because it had been a rather tiring day; however, as soon as he was dressed in his nightgown and sitting in his favourite chair, his brother's shadow preceded him through the open balcony door.

"Hullo... Are you as tired as I am?" Edmund asked.

"Probably," Peter yawned, though making room for him on his lap. Edmund crawled up into it, taking care to not crush Peter's legs or other appendages, and threw his own legs over the armrest as before. Snuggling against his older brother's neck, he felt completely secure and comfortable as Peter's warm hands rested on his waist and knee.

"It's been a long day," he remarked, mirroring Peter's yawn, "but I think our guests are pretty happy."

"Yes, thanks to Felicity and everybody else's hard work. Mr. Tumnus' choir was a superb!"

Edmund nodded, worming one arm behind Peter's back. "And obviously the young ladies were pleased to see **you** again."

"Me?" Peter retorted with a self-deprecating scoff. "They could as easily have been pleased to see **you**, you know! If you weren't so stand-offish to them, anyway..."

Edmund played with the drawstring of Peter's nightshirt with one hand, trying to make the bow tie more even but pulling it loose instead.

"I just don't care for them. Something about them... rubs me the wrong way."

"Oh, Ed," Peter sighed. "You haven't even given them a chance! They seem like perfectly nice girls to me."

This time Edmund knew that he was scowling, and didn't care if his brother saw it.

"Of course they're perfectly nice — if you care for flighty, giggly girls with no sense at all, or who'll chase a chap into the next kingdom and beyond," he grumbled.

"Edmund! That's hardly fair," Peter protested in shock.

"Oh, I know," the younger king admitted. "I just don't like them because I don't like the thought of you getting married to either of them. But if that's what you want—"

"I'll do nothing of the sort! I've told you already, I... I've no interest in them. Not now, and most likely not for a very long time..."

Peter swallowed hard as his hold on Edmund instinctively tightened.

_The one I want is __**you**__,_ he thought desperately. _The one person in the whole world that I can never have, but I love you so much..._

Edmund was relieved, though, to hear Peter reaffirm his intentions (or lack thereof), and was already thinking of the other topic that had weighed heavily on his mind all day. He wondered if Per would be embarrassed if he told Peter everything that the boy had confided to him, and he was not sure how to approach the subject delicately, in case Peter had no knowledge of the fact that a man could take carnal pleasure in a boy. After mulling this over for some time, he decided to broach the subject from a tangent.

"I say, Peter," he began, surprised at how hard and fast his heart had started to beat. "Have you ever... kissed a girl?"

Peter's heart also skipped a beat or two before it thudded at a faster pace. He was recalling — with guilt as well as intense longing — the few times when he had stolen Edmund's lips while the younger boy lay sleeping and unaware. The moment it cost him to come up with an answer betrayed it to his brother.

"You have, haven't you?" Edmund demanded, sitting bolt upright to face him. "A **real** kiss, not just a peck on the cheek?"

"Well, I... yes," Peter confessed as his own cheeks turned crimson in the darkness. If he were to be entirely truthful, he would have to explain that it was not a girl, but he could hardly be expected to own up to that.

"What was it like?"

"It was... wonderful."

"Was it... Was it **her**?" Edmund asked, his insides being stung mercilessly by the hornets at that thought.

Peter felt faint from the answer required of him, knowing full well of whom Edmund spoke, and could only nod in reply. Unable to bear his brother's piercing gaze, he stared out at the ocean where the whitecaps were lit by pale moonlight and starlight.

"Oh," was all Edmund said as he digested this bit of information.

_So he's actually kissed her... I wonder what she thought of that? But wait, didn't he say that she didn't know he loved her? How is that possible? _

"Peter... I thought you hadn't told her, erm... how you felt?"

"Oh, Ed! Please don't ask me about it. I've told you that I can't go into any detail..."

"But I mean, how could she not realise that... that you're in love with her, if you **kissed** her?"

Peter sighed and closed his eyes, letting his heavy head fall back against the chair.

"She was asleep, all right? She didn't know that I did," Peter forced out, his conscience pained from the falsehood of changing the gender.

"Oh! Oh, all right. I understand now," Edmund said, unsure whether that made him feel more satisfied or less. It was difficult for him to think clearly with the hornets stinging him. "And it was still... 'wonderful'?"

"Yes." Peter's voice was faint but his response was firm. "It would have been even **more** wonderful if... if she'd wanted to kiss me back, but... even as it was — and I'm not proud of stealing the kiss — it was still wonderful."

"Oh."

Peter sighed, hoping that the worst was over, and asked, "Why the sudden interest? Is there some girl that **you'd** like to kiss?"

"No!" the younger boy shot back, appalled at the thought. "I just... well... I saw someone kissing today, in the garden."

"Oh?"

"I don't rightly know if I should tell who it was, but... it was... two boys."

Peter started at that, his eyes opening wide in an attempt to see his brother's expression.

"Are you sure about that?"

Edmund nodded. "Quite sure. I couldn't believe it at first, but... I talked to one of them about it, and... well, he said it's quite common in Archenland."

Peter swallowed hard, feeling a chill come over him despite the warm breeze wafting in from the ocean.

"Ah... I see..."

Edmund leaned against his brother's shoulder again, hoping that if he couldn't see Peter's face (and vice versa) it would be easier to talk about.

"I asked him why on earth would anybody want to kiss another boy, and he told me... well, that... that it's possible for a man to... er... 'take pleasure' from a boy, almost as easily as a girl..."

His voice trailed off as he realised that Peter — who had nearly jumped at the mention of two boys kissing — was taking in this more amazing (to Edmund) information without so much as a twitch.

"Did you **know** about this? That such a thing was even **possible?**" Edmund pressed, hardly daring to believe what he already suspected was the answer.

"Yes. I knew." Peter's hands had wrapped themselves around his brother's body, and they now clasped together as though in supplication. "Back when we were still in England, at school... I happened to walk in on a couple of chaps — quite by accident, of course. I'd hoped... since we'd come to Narnia... that you would be spared from knowing about such things..."

"Why? Why did you want to keep me in the dark?" Edmund demanded. "I had to ask someone **else** today to find out — I feel like such a fool now!"

"Oh, Ed," Peter sighed, hugging him closer. "There are some things that it is no shame for you to be ignorant of. Trust me, I'd much rather not have seen what I did!"

"Well, but... Why? I mean, all right, I can understand that you don't care to remember seeing... what you saw," Edmund conceded, reddening even more, "but you could've at least told me that it was **possible** — that those things do happen."

"I suppose. But you were so young when you came here... and I wanted you to stay innocent. I thought... since you weren't in school anymore, that you could be... blissfully unaware of such things, forever."

"Do you mean to say," the younger boy said, suddenly sitting up again as he comprehended what his brother had just implied, "that if I'd stayed in school, I would have found out about it, too? Maybe even walked in on... **that?**"

"Oh, Edmund!" Peter laughed ruefully. "You really **were** young, weren't you? What did you think the Tarts were?"

"The Tarts?" he echoed. "Weren't they special servants or valets to the Bloods..."

His voice died out for a second time and his mouth hung open for a long moment.

"Do you mean to say...?"

"Yes. They were servants, of course, in a way; but if all the Bloods wanted was someone to shine their shoes, they could get any Fag to do it. The Tarts' main purpose was to... well..."

Peter struggled with the wording, and seeing him blush even in the faint moonlight, Edmund supplied, "...to give the Bloods pleasure?"

"Right. Exactly."

There was a long minute of silence.

"Peter, have you ever...?"

"**NO!**"

"Oh. Well, I didn't think you had..."

After another awkward pause, Peter sighed in resignation.

"Now that you know, Ed, I might as well spell it out for you. I told you that we couldn't 'help' each other... **that** way, because I knew that some boys, er... engaged in such activities. And I didn't want **us** to... to go down that path. This... This **need** that we have, as you've already figured out, is very strong for us boys and... I didn't want us to get too caught up in satisfying it like that... especially with each other. We're brothers, after all."

Edmund nodded slowly, acknowledging Peter's reasons for caution, at least.

"But I still don't understand why... Well, if it's all right for fellows who're **not** related to do such things, why would it be any different for us, just because we're brothers? It's not like we could make babies, after all... right?"

Peter groaned and pressed a palm to his forehead in despair.

"It's **not** all right for **any** two fellows to do this! That's why it's even **worse** if you're related. And anyhow, you're much too **young** to be thinking about this sort of thing," he asserted, though wearily. "And right now, I'm much too tired to argue about this with you..."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Peter," Edmund said, disentangling himself to stand on the floor. "I'd forgotten how late it was getting. But can we talk about this some other time? When you're not so tired?"

"Of course," Peter answered, feeling older than his years as he stood up as well.

"Goodnight, Peter," the younger boy murmured, hugging his brother with no reservation in spite of the conversation that they had just had.

"Goodnight, Ed," the older boy replied, returning the hug with a pang of sorrow mingled with joy at the spontaneous gesture.

* * *

A/N: New menu available on food dot com!


	34. Visiting Kings

My Fair Brother

* * *

The second day of the Archenlandian visit was spent on the beach, as the Centaurs had predicted that it would be an auspicious day to go bathing. King Lune was delighted when they suggested it since he rarely had the opportunity to stay for any length of time by the sea, having to return to Anvard before dark or risk tumbling down one of the sheer cliffs that bordered the paths to the mountain stronghold. As the Centaurs had foretold, the day dawned bright and hot, with just enough puffy clouds in the sky to offer some respite from the summer sun.

Corin was unsure of having sand between his toes at first, then was startled by an inrushing wave; however, when everybody else laughed at his drenched clothes, he realised that this was a good thing, and splashed and played with abandon. Susan had asked the Dwarfs to set up several large pavilions with no sides — to provide shade without blocking the sea breezes — where Queen Primela and most of the ladies stayed with her and chatted. Lucy joined the boys, though, in her modest swimming dress and pantaloons, and Lady Avenel gamely borrowed a set of Susan's swimming clothes to bathe in the Great Ocean for the first time.

Mr. Tumnus and some other Fauns kept Corin company in the shallows while several of the knights joined Peter and Edmund to swim out into the waves. Even King Lune swam part-way with them, bobbing about like a great, floating cork; then he returned closer to shore and amused Corin by flopping into the water and sending large splashes and ripples towards the boy. The Dwarfs (who could not remain inactive for long) undertook to create a sandcastle large enough for the little prince to walk in, and the Talking Dogs helped to dig a large moat around it.

Lunch was a casual affair with lemonades, chilled teas, and all different kinds of sandwiches heaped up on platters, and everybody could take whatever they wanted and sit down wherever they pleased. There was no need for fussy table manners, either, since there were plenty of birds (not Talking Birds, of course, who were offered plates of their own food) to pick up anything that was dropped. Everybody got along so well that if it weren't for the fact that most of the Narnians were very un-Human-looking indeed, you would not have known at all that there were folk from two different countries mingling there. Afterwards, more than a few heads were seen to nod as people quietly chatted or exchanged stories.

Edmund was sitting next to Peter, drowsily listening to him discuss with King Lune the discrepancies in the historical lore of how the border between Narnia and Archenland was established, when Lucy cried out from where she was gathering shells by the water.

"Mermaids!" she repeated, sending everybody on to their feet to stare at the beautiful Daughters of the Sea. There were more than a dozen of them leaping up out of the water as they made their way closer to the shore, and the people from Archenland — most of whom had never seen Merfolk — gasped to see their lithe, silver-green figures. Lucy was already wading out to meet them, with Lady Avenel following close behind.

"I wonder why there are so many of them," Edmund remarked to no-one in particular.

"Perhaps they knew we were having a celebration of sorts here," Peter replied over his shoulder as he walked out to the water's edge. "I'm sure they could hear us splashing about."

"Oh! They must have heard **you**, King Lune," Edmund grinned, trotting out behind his brother. The older king was startled out of his reverie by this, and quickly grabbed Corin and hoisted him up on to his shoulders for a better view of their new visitors, wading out behind the two brothers.

The Mermaids who had surrounded Lucy placed wreaths of colourful seaweed around her neck, along with strings of pearls and smoothed pieces of coral. They handed her more of the same with meaningful glances at Susan, who was standing where the water lapped at her toes; one of the Mermaids pressed a lovely pink pearl into Lady Avenel's hand, leaving her speechless with joy.

"Thank you, thank you," Lucy beamed. "I wish we had something just as nice to give you in return... Oh!"

She ran back (as fast as the water would allow her) to a knot of Dwarfs on the shore.

"Quick, quick! Bring some of those pretty jewels that you gave me for my birthday — they're in the Keep. I shouldn't like to take these without giving them anything in return!"

Two of the Dwarfs immediately took off running to the castle, and she brought Susan's share of the gifts to her, which were greatly admired by Queen Primela and the other Archenlandian ladies. Most of the menfolk had waded out to meet the Mermaids but now hung back, a little shy of the strange yet beautiful Daughters of the Sea, who swam around them with equally curious eyes. Peter and Edmund were presented with similar gifts by the Mermaids, and they now saw that there were Mermen, too — wearing helmets of fish scales and fins — approaching the shore in a large V formation.

"I say! There's a whole flock or school of them. It's a jolly good thing these people are on our side," Edmund said to Peter. "I wouldn't want to wage a sea battle with them spearing holes in my ship!"

"I should think not," Peter agreed without taking his eyes off of the incoming group, who were, as his brother had pointed out, wielding spears.

"Is it safe?" King Lune asked calmly, knowing that the Merfolk did not understand Human speech but could read faces just as well. "They look like an army going to war."

"They do, but I doubt that they would have prefaced it with gifts if they meant us any harm," was Peter's equally calm assessment. Nevertheless, he felt better when Oreius sloshed up beside them bearing his shield and sword, with the banner of Narnia upraised.

"Look who comes behind, my Lord," the Centaur said while handing Rhindon to Peter, his gaze set beyond the line of Mermen. "It is Triton himself, the King of the Sea People."

"What can they mean?" Peter queried. "They come bearing gifts as well as arms."

"Doubtless they knew of the convergence of kings today," Oreius replied. "It was foretold in the stars that the paths of the Powers would intersect upon the shore. The Sea Folk must have read the stars, also, and saw what stability such a meeting would bring."

"You didn't mention all this before," Edmund noted, though not accusingly. "Did you know that we would be meeting the Sea King?"

"I am not as adept as others in the art, your Majesty," the Centaur admitted. "All I saw was that there would be peace and strength when the kings of earth met upon the sands of the Great Sea today, when the great lords of the heavens also meet at the edge of the Path of Light."

Here his explanation was cut short as the Mermen formed a straight line just beyond the shallows, less than a stone's throw away from the three kings, to remain in place while the waves rolled beneath them. They moved up and down with the crests as master riders might sit on nervous horses before a battle, and the effect was quite imposing. The Mermaids swam out to join them in the deeper waters and began to sing in their wild, high-pitched voices.

"Fishy ladies!" Corin declared, having finally found his voice.

"They're called Mermaids," Peter told him with a smile.

"Oh, bother," Lucy said, coming up to join her brothers, her hands filled with loose gemstones. "They're too far out now..."

When the song ended, everybody could see that it had been in preparation for the arrival of their King: Triton, son of the Sea God and wielder of the Great Trident which could cause or calm mighty storms at sea. He was now close enough to look Peter in the eye, and the two kings regarded each other for a long moment. When Triton raised his Trident to the sky in a silent salute, Peter did the same with Rhindon, although King Lune (being nearby) was surprised and somewhat awed to see that it was not as an equal, but as the High King acknowledging the fealty of his subordinate king. He had never seen Peter look quite so solemn or so magnificent before.

Triton lowered his Trident then, and raised a large white shell adorned with strands of seaweed to his mouth. When he blew the horn, a note of such power filled the air that all who heard it — men and women, Humans and Creatures alike — felt as though they could swim to the edge of the sea or run to the ends of the earth and not be tired. It was wild and fierce and demanding, yet so full of joy that it nearly made you weep, and stirred your blood to do great acts of courage or kindness or both. There was not a pulse that did not quicken at the sound.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the trumpet call ended, and King Triton turned on the crest of a wave to return to his own domain. The Mermaids followed in exuberant splashes (which looked very like a dance) with the Mermen swimming after them more sedately. When they were all gone from view, the Humans and Creatures left on the shore drew deep breaths as though just awaking from a dream.

"Well. That was certainly a rare sight," Edmund summed up as they waded back to dry ground.

"I didn't get the chance to give them these," Lucy sighed, showing Peter what she was holding.

"We could ask the Seagulls to chase after them," Peter suggested. "Hullo, there, Snowbreast! Would your people be so kind as to take these to our visitors? They left the shallows before my sister could present them herself."

"Gladly, your Majesties," the great Bird bowed, and after Lucy had distributed a few jewels each to a dozen or so of them, the Seagulls sped away over the waters in pursuit of the Sea People, to drop the sparkling gems into the delighted Mermaids' outstretched hands.

###

Nothing makes you quite so tired as a day in the hot sun, and the royal children and their guests — having spent most of the day on the beach — turned in early that evening. Their bed-time tea was served in the den again, and afterwards as Peter pulled on his nightshirt in his bedroom, he heard a light tapping on his window pane.

"You needn't stand on ceremony **now**," he said with a wry grin. "The door is open, after all."

"I just didn't want to barge in on you if you weren't ready," Edmund countered. "Besides, you had your back to me. I didn't want to startle you."

"You wouldn't have," Peter said, stifling a yawn as he sat down in the chair. Edmund waited until he was comfortably settled in before assuming his own usual position, legs flung over one of the armrests and an arm tucked behind Peter's back. Pressing his cheek against the older boy's shoulder, it was Edmund's turn to yawn.

"It's catching."

"So they say."

Peter marveled at how natural it seemed to hold Edmund in his arms, stroking and petting him as he'd seen their mother do with Lucy when she was a baby; however, Edmund was hardly an infant, and was not even, strictly speaking, a child anymore. Their swim out to the rocks that day had proven that. When some of the hardy men of Archenland had not been able to keep up (though of course, many of them lived in the mountains where swimming was not a sport in which they could often engage), Edmund had matched his brother stroke for stroke — a feat which would have been unthinkable only a year ago. Peter thought that he might have grown another inch or two in the past few months as well, quickly catching up to him.

"So... what do you want to talk about tonight?" Peter asked, hoping that his brother would not choose a difficult topic.

"Oh... nothing much," was Edmund's sleepy reply.

"Good. I'm not up for any deep discussions."

"Me, neither."

They were simply enjoying the comfort of each other's company in silence when Peter saw a small shadow dart past them into his room.

"Corin!" he said in surprise, rousing Edmund.

"What? Where?" the younger king asked.

"I just saw him crawl under my bed," Peter explained, as the form of King Lune appeared at his balcony door.

"My humblest apologies," their friend began, then stopped abruptly, seeing the intimate posture that the brothers were in. Edmund blushed, embarrassed at being thought of like a child; Peter paled, knowing what less innocent reasons one could have for caressing a younger boy on one's lap. King Lune regained his composure to continue, "I believe my scapegrace offspring ran in here a moment ago..."

"Yes, indeed," Peter replied, recollecting himself. "He should be under my bed..."

It took the three of them working from each side to flush out their prey, who was (as usual) fighting against being sent to bed, despite rubbing his eyes from exhaustion. But in the end King Lune had his son firmly in hand and trotted him out to the balcony, where he was handed over to his Nurse (who had been standing there wringing her hands).

"My hearty thanks for your help in capturing my madcap prince," King Lune said formally to the brothers as his son was taken away, still protesting. Then, remembering how he had found them earlier, he added, "and my sincerest apologies for disturbing your... repose."

"Oh!" Edmund gasped, having forgotten about it while trying to get Corin out from under the bed. Flushing, he quickly said, "You must think I'm a big baby — worse than Corin — to be sitting on Peter's lap like that—"

"It's just that we like to talk over the day's events in private," Peter interrupted, having conceived of a plausible and more-or-less truthful explanation. "Oftentimes we're off doing separate things, so it's good to fill each other in at the end of the day."

"I see," the southern king responded dryly, staring hard at Peter and the look of guilt on his face (with which he was familiar from dealing with his own son). "And doubtless, it is conducive towards that end to be so... close?"

Peter thought that he would choke on his answer even if he had one, but to his surprise Edmund spoke up, having used the extra moment to sort out his thoughts.

"It's just **nicer** that way," the youngest king put in, still flushed but determined to be heard. "I don't know if I've told you about it before, but when I was rescued from the White Witch and Aslan brought me back, Su and Lu came up and hugged me right away. I know you **meant** to make me feel welcome, of course," he said, turning to Peter, "but I didn't feel like you had forgiven me — not really and truly — until **after** the battle, when you hugged me even with the armour and all. I just didn't feel like everything was **right** until that moment."

"Oh, Ed," Peter whispered, unable to say anything more.

"It's all right — it was my own stupid fault," Edmund assured him. "And I was a pretty miserable blighter before that, I know. But at any rate, I... I like it when you hold me like that, because it reminds me of when things really got better — when all of the bad stuff was over and done, and... you were glad to have me as a brother again."

Forgetting their guest's presence entirely, Peter grabbed Edmund in a crushing embrace, speechless from the emotions surging through him. The younger boy thought that his bones might crack, then decided he didn't care if they did, and hugged his brother back with all of his might. King Lune looked on in mild surprise, his initial concern dispelled for the moment.

"Well, then," he said in a low tone, gently reminding his young hosts that he was still there, "I should leave thee to thy confidences and caresses. Goodnight, my friends."

"G—Goodnight," Peter stuttered, embarrassed once more, and Edmund echoed the word. They slipped out of their embrace rather self-consciously as the rotund King of Archenland made his way back to his room.

"Well... I suppose I should be going," Ed began.

"We should both get some sleep," Peter reluctantly agreed.

"Pete?"

"Hm?"

"Would it be all right if... if I slept with you again?"

Peter paused to consider this, but the voice of his better judgment was drowned out by his longing to hold his beloved brother again.

"I suppose..."

When they bid each other goodnight for the last time, it was with Edmund tucked firmly in Peter's arms as they lay in the High King's comfortable bed.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the delay in posting!


	35. DELETED Sliding

This chapter was not in compliance with FanFiction dot net's content policy and has been deleted. Please read this story in its entirety at my new website, TheaNishimori dot WordPress dot com.


	36. In the Dark

My Fair Brother

* * *

King Edmund arrived at breakfast before King Peter did and nearly shocked his sisters with his cheerfulness and energy. None of them enjoyed rising early, but the younger king had always seemed to dislike it the most, so his unwonted good mood was a welcome surprise. When Peter arrived, he was much more quiet and lethargic, which was attributed to the earliness of the hour.

Most of the necessary gear for the hunting trip — such as tents and cooking utensils — had already been taken up by some Dwarfs with the Horses, leaving only the party's personal effects to be loaded on to the _Splendor Hyaline_. They managed to set sail with only a half-hour delay, and waved their goodbyes (Corin rather dejectedly) to Mrs. Dumplesugar and the rest of the staff who preferred to stay behind at the castle. Felicity and a few of the cooks had come along, though, to prepare tasty dishes with the game they hoped to have; watching her and some of the other small Beasts scampering about the ship soon had Corin laughing again. King Edmund had the Dwarfs fashion a sling out of spare rope so that he could carry the prince securely on his back and, after persuading Queen Primela, he took him up to the crow's nest to admire the view.

When Edmund came back down, he noticed that Per was leaning over the side of the forecastle with Darian rubbing his back, up and down his spine. Handing the overjoyed princeling (safe and sound) back to his mother, Edmund approached his squire and the Archenlandian knight.

"Per? Are you feeling all right?" he asked, his brows drawn together in a light scowl.

"Yes, your Majesty," Per answered as he turned to face him. "It's easier when I can see the waves coming and know how the boat will move."

"And this man isn't bothering you?" Edmund pressed, indicating Darian with a nod.

"Oh, no! No, King Edmund, not at all!" Per replied in haste. "I... It seems to settle my stomach."

"My Lord," Darian protested, "I would never do anything to harm or... distress your Majesty's squire."

"Well, all right then. And I'm sorry if it was rude to refer to you like you aren't even here," the young king said to him, "but my first duty is to my subjects. And I might as well tell you right now that I won't put up with having my squire... distressed, in any way."

"Of course, your Majesty," Darian answered with a respectful bow.

Satisfied, Edmund went to the aft deck to see what Peter was discussing with Captain Meridian. He listened in to their conversation about the cost of new rigging and some other improvements that they wished to make, and had to stifle his yawns. Leaning against the railing of the deck, his mind wandered back to what had passed between him and his brother that morning; a happy, dreamy smile lit up his countenance as he watched Peter's lips, almost mesmerised by their movement. Just remembering how those lips had traveled across his skin made him shiver with delight, and he was amazed anew at how demanding they had been — though not unpleasantly so — when they had claimed his own. For the first time in his life he understood why lovers kissed on the mouth, and he vaguely hoped that he would have the opportunity to do it again with Peter. It had left him feeling replete and satisfied — in a word, loved. He could hardly express how happy it had made him.

Peter noticed the graceful form of his brother watching him, and tried to keep his eyes averted. He knew that if he returned Edmund's gaze, he would be tempted to slip his arms around his brother's slender waist and bestow upon him all manner of unseemly effusions of affection, regardless of the eyes of their friends and subjects. When the captain finally excused himself to tend to the ship, Peter drew in a deep breath to steel himself.

"I see Lucy's engaged one of the knights in chess," he remarked, as off-handedly as he could.

"Oh. Right," the younger boy responded, coming out of his reverie. Since Peter began to stroll in that direction, he naturally followed, happy just to be in his company and not realising how assiduously his brother was avoiding looking at him in a desperate attempt to curb his desires. Through the rest of their short sea-journey, Edmund was his brother's silent shadow, an amiable smile affixed on his handsome features as the High King struggled to maintain his composure.

###

They took several rowboats to land on the reedy shore just south of the Northern Marsh, where the River Shribble spread out into rivulets separated by rocks and mud. Most of the Marsh-Wiggles of Narnia — those curious frog-men-like Creatures — lived in their simple wigwams along these waterways since time immemorial, and welcomed the royal party with dishes of freshly caught fish and eels.

"No doubt they're dreadfully poisonous to Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve," warned Mudpool, one of the Wiggles who had brought a very large platter of honey-basted broiled eel (which were quite delicious, and did not cause even a hint of indigestion in the Humans).

"The pavilion looks like it's listing already. Your Majesties should be prepared to run in case a stiff breeze brings it crashing down upon our heads," cautioned Glumhub, much to the Dwarfs' irritation (for they had set up the pavilion, taking great care to drive the stakes down deep).

"If this whole section of the Marsh doesn't slide into the sea altogether," put in Bogfog with a sigh.

Their talk rather alarmed the Archenlandian contingent (especially the ladies, who were somewhat frightened of the Wiggles) until they heard the Fauns and other Narnians laughing good-humouredly at the impossible disasters being predicted.

"You never know," Dripweather intoned between puffs on his pipe. "One of those fish could have been enchanted to turn its eater into a fish. Or a stone. Or both."

Mr. Tumnus assured the Wiggle that having been turned into stone once himself, it was not so bad as might be supposed, and that either Queen Lucy with her cordial or Aslan with his breath would soon be able to set one to rights again.

"Ah! You've been well bred, that's for sure," Dripweather declared, looking as despondent as ever. "Trying to put a brave face on things for the ladies' sake. I daresay it won't do much good, once they see you turned into a fish, but it's a noble thing to attempt, regardless."

After finishing their delicious lunch — in which nobody was enchanted or transfigured, thankfully — the hunting party bid the Marsh-Wiggles goodbye and headed on foot to the camp that had been set up on the northern edge of Owl Wood.

Here, as the womenfolk got settled in and the menfolk prepared for the hunt (having seen flocks of plump geese flying overhead), King Lune took King Peter aside to a little hillock overlooking the fens where the waterfowl were nesting.

"My dearest friend," began the older king, "all this day, I doubted whether I should speak to thee on a matter that may well be only in mine eye; but I fear I would be neglecting my duty to thee as thy friend, were I not to pursue the matter to our mutual satisfaction, at least."

Peter felt his heart sink, suspecting that he knew what this was about.

"My good Lord, speak on," he replied, resigned.

"It hardly warrants mentioning how I found thee and thy noble brother in an attitude of... intimate repose, yester eve."

Peter flushed scarlet and nodded, unable to answer for a moment. King Lune waited patiently.

"Yes... you are entirely right in expounding to me the... inappropriateness, of such behaviour," he slowly admitted. "Edmund is still too innocent to know it, but I... I stand without excuse. My brother's ignorance is also on my head, for I have failed — despite my many attempts — to convey to him the shamefulness of such a... connection, or relations, between two men; especially those of close kin. But as he has no other male family here, it has fallen to me to teach him of these matters, in which, I fear, I have served him but poorly."

"He is still very young," King Lune interposed in a kindly tone, "as art thou, my friend, to bear the burden of being father to him as well as to your varied subjects. If thou wilt, I shall speak to him of the need for decorum in such matters — perhaps he will heed my warnings as from a friend and elder."

"Perhaps," Peter responded, though without much conviction. "His arguments have set mine flying in retreat. My wits have been no match for his, despite my greater years."

"Perhaps it is not thy wits that have failed thee, but thy heart," King Lune shrewdly pointed out. "If I do not surmise in error, it seems thou wast enjoying his company and... his affections, as equally or better than he, thine."

The younger king bowed his head, ashamed to be so easily found out.

"It is true," he whispered, his words as light as dandelion seeds blown about on the wind. "I have long yearned for my brother in a way that is... unnatural. I love him greatly as a brother, of course, but my other passion is so great that it threatens to consume all proper emotions and destroy what good I might have harboured within me. And my fear is that it shall, ultimately, destroy my fair brother as well."

"Nay, thou art too good to bring him to ruin," the older king declared. "Thy pure love for thy brother wouldst have stopped thee ere it came to that, I trow! But let me consult with him hereafter, and persuade him to prudence. He has ever been reasonable in his judgment; I trust it shall be a small matter to show him the dangers of such... excessive intimacy."

"Thank you, my Lord," Peter said with unfeigned gratitude. "I pray your efforts will be well rewarded."

"But as for you, my good King Peter," King Lune continued with a note of sadness in his voice, "thou wilt do well to find for thee a queen. I know right well how strong the desire may be for a man of thy years, and 'twould be easier for thee to have a fair maiden to dream upon — even if only as thy betrothed."

Peter hesitated, then slowly nodded to acknowledge the wisdom of the Archenlandian king's advice.

"You are right, of course," he managed with a sigh. "And though it seems to my besotted heart that no lady can ever match my brother in beauty, I will try to seek out such a one as may be suitable to help us rule this land."

"Thou must consider the need for an heir as well," King Lune gently added. "I did not rest upon my throne half so easily until my sons... until Corin was born."

"I daresay it is never **easy** to sit upon a throne," Peter mused aloud, recalling his friend's heartache.

"Thou speakest truly," the older man agreed, clapping him soundly on the shoulder.

###

The hunt went very well, with the Talking Dogs of Narnia keeping their southern cousins in check until the right moment to flush out the fowl; they even contrived to startle only those birds that did not have young, so that they might not leave any goslings to die for want of their parents. Neither King Peter nor King Edmund's arrows hit their mark, but they were satisfied with the good cheer of their guests as they returned to the camp laden with plump birds, plucked and ready for cooking. The cooks from Cair Paravel did them justice — roasting some, baking some, and frying the rest — and combined with the vegetables which the inhabitants of Owl Wood had brought for the royal party, they dined as well as they ever did at the castle.

True to his word, Peter was very attentive to the young ladies from Archenland, much to Edmund's consternation. The youngest king watched (trying not to be obvious in his observations) as his brother painstakingly explained the governance of these northern territories of Narnia, going into the details of their battles with the giants, to Lady Verinia — who was so flattered by his attentions that she missed half of what he was saying — and Lady Avenel — who giggled and gasped and praised King Peter for his feats at every opportunity, until Edmund feared that he might lose his dinner.

When a troupe of Fauns brought out their instruments and began playing, Peter stood up to dance with both of the ladies as well as the Dryads and Naiads who had come to join in the revelry. Susan and Lucy were soon dancing with the younger Archenlandian knights, too, leaving Edmund inching cautiously away from the ring of light around the great bonfire, for he did not wish to be forced (out of common courtesy) into dancing with any of the ladies other than his sisters. When he felt sufficiently masked by the shadows of the forest, he walked into its quiet depths, his eyes still seeing Peter's laughing face as he had been chatting with a pretty girl whose name Edmund did not yet know. He scowled, but there was no-one to see him in the dark, for all of the woodland Creatures had gathered at the camp — including the Owls, who had roused themselves long before dusk to greet the royal children.

"Stupid girls! Why do they have to fawn on him so?" Edmund muttered to himself. "You'd think they were **trying** to turn his head and make him into a silly fop! And why on earth is Peter going along with it? Doesn't he realise that they're making him look like a complete fool?"

By the time Peter noticed that his brother was nowhere to be seen, and approached King Lune to ascertain whether that gentleman knew of Edmund's whereabouts (which he did not, having been preoccupied with Corin), the youngest king had wandered deep into the woods, still grumbling to himself.

"And he practically **promised** that he wasn't going to marry anytime soon, but now you'd think he was in a **race** to find a wife! Well, if he wants to go crazy over any of **those** girls, he's welcome to them! See if I care..."

Just then, Edmund's foot was caught on a gnarled root protruding above the ground, sending him crashing into some bushes. Unfortunately, they were thorn bushes, which scratched his skin and tore his hose as he struggled to extricate himself. When he was standing again, smarting from the red lines drawn across his arms and legs and face, he realised that the cuts were stinging worst on his cheeks, where his tears were now streaming in an unstoppable flow.

"Stupid, stupid!" he cried in frustration, though he hardly knew whether he meant it of himself, for coming into the dense forest without a light, or of Peter, who seemed to be falling prey to the wiles of pretty women. But as he slumped down to sit beside the offending root, Edmund knew without a doubt that, despite his previous words, he did indeed care (very much) about Peter falling in love with one of those girls. The stinging hornets in his stomach reminded him cruelly again that he was jealous of his brother — and not because he envied him the ladies' attentions.

"I'm being ridiculous," he scolded himself, rubbing his cheeks and eyes as best he could with the short sleeves of his tunic. "I'm like a little kid who doesn't want to share his favourite toy! I don't want to share Peter with **any**one..."

_And why should I?_ an insistent voice bubbled up inside of him. _I'm his brother — his __**only**__ brother! If he was going to change his mind about girls all of a sudden like that, he could've at least __**warned**__ me first... It's enough to give any chap a turn, to have his brother do such an about-face!_

However, Edmund was honest enough with himself to admit that even **with** a warning, it would have bothered him almost as much as without.

_No, I just don't like the thought of Peter getting married,_ he acknowledged, sniffling heavily. _Then I wouldn't be able to spend the night with him, or have him help me **that** way, or even have bedtime tea alone with him! I... I'd __**miss**__ him..._

Two more fat tears slipped out from his eyes as he ached with a loneliness that he had never experienced before, not even when he had been a prisoner of the White Witch.

_I don't __**want**__ him to fall in love with a girl!_ he thought, then remembered something. _All right, so he said he __**has**__ already, but at least she's a girl he can't hope to marry, so it's not as bad,_ he amended. _I just wish he would put off getting married for a long time — at least until I'm older and grown-up and won't __**need**__ him as much._

When he tried to draw in a deep breath, it hitched like a cart rumbling over a bumpy road, and he wearily set his head down on his knees to let the tears run free for a while. However, as his breathing began to calm somewhat, he heard faint noises further off in the forest. Sniffling one last time, he arose quietly and crept forward to investigate.

* * *

A/N: I didn't realise until a few days after posting the last chapter, but we've reached the 100K word mark as well as 60K hits total, and Edith gets the honour of having written the 500th review! ^_^


	37. DELETED Out of the Dark

This chapter was not in compliance with FanFiction dot net's content policy and has been deleted. Please read this story in its entirety at my new website, TheaNishimori dot WordPress dot com.


	38. Dreams and Kisses

My Fair Brother

* * *

Edmund awoke early in the morning with a start, gasping and sweating. It was on account of his dream, in which he had watched Darian making love to Per again, just as he had the night before in the woods, only (to his horror) Darian somehow turned into Peter. Edmund was voiceless in the nightmare, and try as he might to cry out, no sound had issued from his mouth. He was relieved to come to his senses and know that it had only been a dream, but a feeling of sadness and unease remained with him. The hornets were prickling his insides as well.

In the dim light seeping through the tent's fabric (for it was nearly dawn) he could make out Peter's sleeping features. Edmund crept over and sat at his brother's bedside to gaze into his face.

_It was just a silly dream,_ he scolded himself. _Peter would __**never**__ do that to Per! Even if Per wanted him to, he probably wouldn't, saying that it 'isn't proper' and such. Although I still can't see what's so wrong about it... Darian sure seemed to enjoy it, and even Per didn't seem to mind it at all! I suppose that's why Darian was twisting his fingers in there so long — to make sure that it didn't hurt. But that was much more than just 'helping,' like what we've done... That was the real thing, to put it all the way inside like that! I wonder if Peter's would fit all the way in, too? His is much bigger, so it might not. I wonder if it wouldn't feel as good for him, then? _

Not for the first time, Edmund imagined Peter's manhood wedged inside of his own body, and felt a tingle travel along his spine. He knew now that it would not remain there, inert, but move in powerful thrusts until his brother's male need was satisfied. That thought alone was enough to make his own manhood lift its head in expectation.

_That would be so amazing, to have Peter do that to me... to really 'take pleasure' in me, and touch me all over, and kiss me like that..._

Remembering their passionate kiss from the previous morning, Edmund felt the urge to press his mouth against his brother's, but did not want to wake him just yet. He did, however, stare at Peter's thick, full lips with longing, partly basking in the recollection of how they had moved over his skin, wet and hot — devouring him, in a sense — but mostly wishing that they would do that to him again, and many times over.

_I wonder if I'm the only one he's ever kissed like that..._ he mused, then grimaced a moment later. _Oh, drat! He said he'd kissed __**her**__ once, while she was sleeping. He said it was wonderful... I wonder if he liked kissing me as well? If she was asleep, she couldn't have done anything, and at least I __**tried**__ to keep it going! I wonder who it was, though... It has to be someone he could get close to when they were sleeping, probably in the castle — definitely not a Mermaid! Sometimes the Dryads and Naiads stay at the castle... but if it were one of them, he could jolly well ask her to marry him, I should think. Hm... A lot of the Animals come and stay at Cair, too. Maybe she's a Beast, so there's no way they could have babies. __**That**__ must be it! She's not close enough to being Human for Peter to marry. Of course, he made it sound like she wasn't even interested in him, but that's beside the point. The important thing is, if he can't marry the girl (or Beast, or whomever) he loves, I can at least help him with what he needs — just like the knights in Anvard 'take pleasure' in the page-boys until they can marry. And Peter wouldn't be 'taking' it from me, really, since I don't mind __**giving**__ it to him! I just have to convince him that it's all right..._

Oblivious to the fact that his brother was making designs upon him, Peter continued to slumber peacefully. However, Edmund's male member had grown more agitated as he considered how "giving Peter pleasure" was the right, thoughtful, and even honourable thing to do, so he crawled over to find his chamber pot and stimulate his manhood to completion. His mind's eye was filled with visions of Peter pounding his larger organ into his body, and to the imagined rhythm of his brother's movements (trying desperately to be quiet about it) he released his seed.

Seeing the whitish substance spattered in the pot and still dripping from his tip, he remembered how Darian had swallowed all of Per's issue. Experimentally, he took a small bit of it on his finger and sniffed it. Finding that it did not smell as vile as he had expected, he dared to lick it. He grimaced at the strange combination of sour, bitter, and salt, then washed his hands and face in the basin set out for that purpose.

_I don't suppose Peter will want to do __**that**__ to me,_ he resigned himself, thinking of how Darian had suckled on Per's organ. _I'm not sure that __**I'd**__ really want to do that to Peter, either, come to think of it! But then, if I did it for him, he'd be obligated to return the favour, wouldn't he? _

He wondered if there were a tactful way to ask Per about how pleasurable it was, without letting his squire know that he had seen him in such a private moment with his lover. He couldn't think of one.

_Oh, well... I suppose I could give it a go. At least it's not __**completely**__ nasty. Although I'd want to make sure that we both washed up first!_

Returning to Peter's bedside, he regarded his brother while considering the biggest obstacle to their joint physical happiness.

_He said we mustn't rub against each other like we did yesterday, ever again, but that's what he said about helping each other with our hands — and he still helped me __**after**__ that! I suppose when he wants it badly enough, too, he can't help himself. Maybe if I just wait for the right moment, I could get him to do it... I'd have to open myself up beforehand, though, so I'd be ready for him..._

There was a slight noise outside, as somebody dropped something while preparing the camp's breakfast. Peter stirred and opened his eyes.

"Edmund," he remarked warmly, too groggy to be surprised at seeing his brother's face mere inches from his own. In fact, he had been dreaming about his dark-haired sibling, so it seemed a natural extension of that wonderful dream.

"Say, Peter," Edmund began, encouraged by his brother's hazy smile, "can I lie down with you for a while? Just until we have to get up?"

"Of course," was the immediate response, and Edmund wasted no time in crawling under the covers. Their beds here were clusters of cushions held together by a blanket, and were rather narrow compared to their luxurious beds in the castle, but Edmund managed to get comfortable by pressing his body close to Peter's.

Peter, however, was growing wider awake by the moment, and although his arms had wrapped themselves around his brother, his smile faltered at the vague sense of foreboding.

"Ed... actually... we shouldn't..." he began, apologetic for retracting his welcome.

"Don't worry so," the younger boy chided. "Besides, I'm already done, and it feels like you are, too."

This reassurance was delivered with a quick press of his hip against Peter's nether regions, which were (true enough) already relaxed from having released his seed. Peter's dream (what he could remember of it) had been quite vivid and satisfying. But the gentle contact gave his heart a jolt, waking him up completely.

"Oh, Ed!" he groaned as his sensitive organ responded stridently to the stimulus.

"Sorry — if it bothers you so, I'll try not to bump it," Edmund conceded.

"All right. And don't... don't rub against it, like you did yesterday."

"Oh, all right. I suppose touching it is out of the question?"

"Very **definitely** out of the question!"

"Fine. But can you at least rub my back?"

"Your back? Why? Is it sore?"

"No, I just like how warm your hands are."

"Oh. All right."

As Peter stroked his back and shoulders with slow, soothing motions, Edmund sighed with contentment. He felt perfectly safe and happy as he buried his face in his brother's neck; however, his mind was racing with a thousand questions, all chasing their tails madly like puppies since they had no answers. Selecting what he considered to be the most innocuous of them, he raised his voice to ask, "Say, Peter?"

"Hm?"

"Can you show me how to kiss again?"

Peter's hands froze in their movements over Edmund's back.

"What?" he cried, stunned.

"You know, for practise," the younger boy said calmly. "I don't intend to go chasing after girls yet — not for a **long** while — but it would be dreadfully embarrassing to kiss a girl, only to find out then that I'm bad at it! I **am** a King of Narnia, after all, and there are expectations that I have to meet. It's not like I have a lot of choices for people to practise with, either... Susan would make a big fuss over it, and Lucy is still a child. One of the Talking Animals might do, but it wouldn't be very pleasant (what with their whiskers and all), and I'm not comfortable asking any of the Dryads... although I suppose Per might be willing—"

Peter listened to this litany of candidates with growing dismay but interrupted Edmund when he mentioned his squire.

"That wouldn't be appropriate at all," he objected, feeling his heart thump wildly at the thought of his love kissing someone else, even for practise. "If you asked Per, he would feel like he **had** to do it, whether he wanted to or not! Sure, you could tell him that he can refuse, but it's not likely that he would."

"You're probably right," Edmund agreed. "So that really leaves **you** as my only choice — and, if I'm not being too presumptuous, **I'm** the only reasonable choice for you."

_Reason has nothing to do with this,_ Peter thought desperately, even as he felt his brother's arms encircling his neck. _But how do I get him to see that?_

Before he could find an answer that would defer his brother, Edmund's soft lips were being pressed upon his own, arousing in him a need that was much greater and more all-encompassing than mere lust. He wanted to taste those lips, to plunder the cavern of the mouth behind them with his tongue, and to revel in the strange sensation of two tongues sliding against each other. He wanted to press that slender body so closely to his own that they ceased to be two separate beings. But he also wanted to protect the brother whom he adored, to defend his body against all enemies who would do him harm — including his own baser nature — as well as to safeguard Edmund's heart and keep it pure and untouched, if at all possible in a shelter that would preserve his love only for Peter himself. With such powerful emotions surging through him, the High King hardly realised what he was doing as he pushed his brother on to his back, kissing and caressing him with his whole body, pinning him under an onslaught of adoration.

Edmund was pleased to find that his brother succumbed so easily to his advances, and responded to each gesture with a will, opening his mouth to welcome Peter's probing tongue and wrapping his legs around his brother's as he had seen Per do to Darian. Of course this led to their privates being pressed together in exactly the manner that Peter had just prohibited, and notwithstanding his recent release, Edmund's manhood rose to the occasion. However, he was more overcome by the buzzing of the bees within him, as they seemed to fill every part of him from the tips of his ears down to his toes. Feeling as though the ground were falling away beneath him, he clutched at his brother's broad shoulders, trembling with an unspeakable joy but also somewhat frightened by the intensity of his own reactions. He thought fleetingly that it just might be possible to die of happiness.

When they broke apart, panting and gasping for air, Peter stared hard into his lovely brother's face, wherein he saw all for which he had yearned these past few years. Edmund's eyes were brimming with bliss, and Peter knew that his brother was his for the taking. Their two manhoods were also throbbing against each other, reminding him that Edmund — however misguided a notion it might be — was more than willing to help satisfy that need as well. All he had to do was take what was offered him, to "take pleasure" in his brother's beautiful form, and declare his undying love. He had no doubt, in that moment, that Edmund would respond in like kind.

"Edmund," Peter moaned, the word a mere whisper on his lips and yet driving daggers of pain through his heart. However, even through the haze of his desire, he knew that what he lusted for was forbidden. After drawing a deep breath, he wrenched himself free from his love's embrace to lie, bereft and in agony, on the floor beside him.

"Peter?" Edmund asked, surprised.

"We mustn't, Ed," was the torturous answer. "It's... It's **wicked**. Father and Mother wouldn't approve, if they knew. **Aslan** wouldn't approve. I'm sure of it."

Edmund closed his eyes — now the ground **had** fallen away from beneath him, and he had nothing to cling to.

"How do you know?" he demanded, not ready to relinquish his claim on his brother.

"I just **know**," Peter answered. After a moment, he added, "You must know it, too."

Edmund sat up abruptly and declared, "No, I do **not** know! All I know is that you're being an impossible ass about this, when I'm just trying to **help** you!"

The thunderous look that Edmund shot him nearly broke Peter's heart, but he grabbed his brother's hand to keep him from flying off in a rage, and sat up and spoke to him as gently as he could.

"I appreciate that, Ed — really, I do — but it's just not **proper**. I thought I had put a stop to it, but... well, I'm not perfect, Edmund, and sometimes I can't help myself. But I need you to promise that you won't... won't **try** to put me in that sort of position again. **Please.**"

Edmund scowled and fell silent, unwilling to commit himself to such a promise; and indeed, having considered and planned on cornering Peter in exactly that kind of position, hoping for a moment of weakness, he felt sulky and ill-tempered.

"I know that you mean well," Peter continued, making his brother feel even sulkier because of his guilt, "and I know that it feels good — for the moment, at least. But don't you see, it needs to be at the right time and with the right person! You told us that the White Witch had offered to make you a king, and that was partly what made you betray us; but even if she **had** made you king (which I'm pretty sure she never meant to do), it wouldn't have been as good as having Aslan make you a king in **his** way. This... what we've been doing, may **feel** all right for now, but just think how much **better** it will be if you wait until you... meet a girl you really love, and get married, and—"

"I don't **want** to meet any girl! I don't **want** to get married!" Edmund burst out petulantly. He would have said more, but he choked on his own words.

"Oh, Ed," Peter murmured, pulling him close to embrace him — this time as his brother. "Please don't make this so difficult! You'll just have to trust me that... that it's really better this way, in the long run."

"I just want to **help** you," he sniffed.

"I know. And thanks." Peter placed a chaste kiss on Edmund's forehead. "You've been a brick, and I've come to rely on you. Now I need you to keep me in line about this, too."

He peered into his brother's beautiful brown eyes so that he could not avoid the inherent question. Finally, Edmund nodded, although he also added, "I'll try. But I can't **promise**... Sometimes, I can't help myself, either."

"Fair enough," Peter sighed, hugging him for a moment longer. Then he stood up to wash and get ready for the day. While they were changing into their hunting outfits, a new thought occurred to him.

"I say, Ed... I don't think kissing is something you need to practise, anyhow."

"How's that?"

"Well, (from what little I know of it, mind you) it seems to me that if you love someone, it will be wonderful — regardless of whether you're good or bad at it."

Edmund pondered this in silence while combing his hair. When Mr. Tumnus poked his head into the royal tent a minute later, he was shocked to find both kings already awake and dressed for the hunt.


	39. Arrows of Love

My Fair Brother

* * *

Edmund hardly knew what he was eating for breakfast since the hornets and bees were plaguing him as never before. The hornets stung as he ground his teeth, angry at Peter for having come so close to giving in and yet catching himself and resisting; however, when he thought of how warm and passionate their kiss had been, the bees sent a trembling buzz throughout his body — right down to his knees, which would have made his steps unsteady if he were not already sitting down.

He was also deeply disappointed that Peter had forbidden kissing "for practise," closing that avenue of opportunity, it seemed, for good. To think that their second kiss might have been the last gave him a pang of heart so painful that he rubbed his chest, though it did nothing to lessen the ache. But as he pondered on his brother's remarks, one of them stood out in his mind.

_He said that it would be "wonderful," regardless of whether one's good at it or not,_ he recalled. _At least, as long as you love the person you're kissing... It __**was**__ wonderful to kiss Peter, but of course it would be, since we're brothers and I love him and he loves me as much as anybody else... well, except for Lucy. _

He swallowed hard, trying to get a mouthful of oatmeal past the lump in his throat. Even though it was drowning in fresh cream and honey (his favourite), it seemed as dry and tasteless as sand. He glanced over at Peter's table and nearly choked to see the young ladies from Archenland swarming around the High King, hanging on his every word before he left for the day's hunt. Scowling, Edmund wrenched his eyes away from his royal brother, only to find Darian settled in beside Per and talking companionably with the boy.

_At least __**they're**__ getting along well,_ he thought bitterly, the hornets stinging him with renewed vigour. _I don't suppose Darian would ever refuse to kiss Per! I wonder if he would think twice, though, if they were brothers? _

Remembering how eagerly Per had capitulated to Darian's advances, Edmund was filled with even more questions which he could not ask without revealing that he had watched them (like a Peeping Tom) the night before. Observing them now, he noticed how tenderly the knight gazed at Per as they spoke in low tones, and he ached with an almost physical yearning.

_I wish __**Peter**__ would look at me like that, and do to me what Darian did to Per,_ he thought, twisting his spoon in the oatmeal. _I want it so badly that it hurts even to see someone else enjoying that kind of... closeness. I suppose I'm jealous of those girls vying for Peter's attention, too, since he's set on waiting until he's married and might very well pick one of them... How silly of me! Of course he'll marry a girl eventually, and even if I'd gotten him to do that with me, it would've been only a temporary thing until he got married... _

At this the pain became so great that Edmund dropped his spoon, clutching his tunic as he gasped for air. Per was at his side in an instant.

"Are you ill, your Majesty?" he inquired with genuine concern.

"I... I'm fine," Edmund managed. "I just swallowed too much oatmeal at once."

Dubiously, Per sat down again, keeping an eye on his knight and king, who gave up eating to mull things over in earnest.

_Why am I feeling so jealous over Peter? I knew all along that it wouldn't've lasted very long, even if I could've persuaded him. It's ridiculous! Preposterous! And if he doesn't want to take advantage of what we could do together, I should just leave him be, even though... even though I'll miss out on it, too. But I oughtn't be so selfish! I'm a king, after all, and I have everything else that I could possibly wish for... _

However, dismissing his feelings did nothing to lessen their intensity or effects, so it was just as well that Phillip did not need him to direct their course as they rode out for the hunt. The Horse kept them more or less in the thick of things while Edmund mused silently on his own thoughts, his eyes fixed on the High King's back at the head of the party. Once, when Peter turned around to check on his brother, he found Edmund's brown eyes boring into his own with an unfathomable expression. Though startled to see him glowering at him so, he managed a quick, reassuring sort of smile that did alleviate some of the hornet stings in the younger boy's stomach.

A little later, the Hounds began baying up ahead of them and the Horses went into a full gallop. Edmund could only grasp the pommel of his saddle and hang on as they leapt over a rivulet in pursuit of a stag (not a Talking Stag, of course) that had been flushed out of the woods. The rest of the hunters notched their arrows and bows sang like harp-strings all around Edmund, bringing the stag down in a matter of minutes. Glordus the Centaur reached the beast first and slit its throat to end its misery.

"Well done! Well done, Faril!" King Lune cried before dismounting. As the hunters gathered round to assess the size of the stag and praise those whose arrows had hit it, Edmund headed towards a small outcropping of rock a short distance away. His breakfast was not settling well and he was in no mood to join the others in celebrating.

Peter looked up in time to see him leaving and was torn between the desire to chase after him and his duty as host to oversee the business of skinning and dressing the venison. Having an idea of what might be troubling his brother, he wished with all of his heart that he could make him understand the need for rectitude and modesty in physical relationships, but did not want to get in a row with him right now with so many others present. He was still standing there indecisively when King Lune came up and clapped him on the back.

"A fine specimen and a good first kill of the day, my dear Peter," the older monarch beamed, leading him towards the stag with an almost imperceptible force — so natural was the gesture — on his shoulder.

"Indeed," Peter managed, recollecting himself as he tore his gaze away from Edmund. He attended to the formal courtesy of offering the stag's horns to Faril (whose arrow had been the first to hit) and watched while the Dwarfs made short work of carving the meat, to be taken back to the camp where portions of it would be smoked and sent home with their guests.

When the bulk of the work was done, King Lune said, "Come, my friend — let us roam a few paces and stretch out our limbs."

"With a good will, Sire," Peter responded, falling in step beside him. He noted that the older man was unwontedly silent and braced himself for what was to come.

"My dearest Peter... wilt thou heed the counsel of one who looks to thy interests as zealously as his own?" King Lune began, his voice low so as to not be overheard by the other hunters.

"Of course, my Lord," Peter replied.

"Let not thine eyes linger overmuch on thy brother," he said gently. "I see now that thy love for him runneth deeper than I had previously suspected. But I fear that some one of thy court or mine may have marked already how ardent a scrutiny thou dost cast upon him. Even if thou canst abjure not thy unnatural affection for him, thou must guard thy words and deeds from betraying thee. A hard task for one so young, to be sure, but as king... the burden must be borne."

"Yes. I can do no less for the honour of the throne," Peter agreed with a sigh. "If I might impose upon your goodwill and favour..."

"Ask on, my friend."

"You mentioned yesterday of speaking with Edmund upon this very matter."

"So I did, though no opportune moment has presented itself as yet. But I have not forgotten my promise, dear Peter."

The younger king nodded. "I know you have not; I only wished to implore you to find such an opportunity at the earliest circumstance, for Edmund is so insensible to the... hazards of indecorous behaviour, let alone the censure which it merits, that he has provoked me to carnal misdeeds with greater brashness the more I strive to discourage it."

"A tenuous footing for thee, indeed," was King Lune's grave answer. "I shall seek him out before the day's close, my friend. And may Aslan grant me the wisdom to exhort him in such a manner that he must be persuaded."

###

Per had not realised for a while that King Edmund had strolled away by himself, but when he finally saw him sitting on a boulder a stone's throw away, he hurried over with a water-skin in hand.

"Are you feeling quite well, your Majesty?" he asked anxiously.

"I'm fine. Really," Edmund assured him, taking a sip of the water. Noting that Darian was following his squire with his eyes, he indicated the knight with a slight gesture and remarked, "You seem to be getting on with Darian quite well."

Per blushed immediately and stammered, "Ah—I have b—been g—getting to know him rather more... intimately, these past few days."

Edmund shrugged. "It's all right, Per. I know he's fond of you, and as long as you've no objections to it, you may spend as much time with him as you like. It must be hard for him to be leaving Anvard soon, with hardly any chance of ever seeing you again."

"It is true," Per admitted, poking at a clump of grass with the toe of his boot. "I... I thought that it might be rather cruel... that is, after all the kindness which he has shown me while I was in King Lune's service, I felt that it would be ungrateful to... to turn him away with no token of my... regard, at least, if not affection..."

"Oh?" Edmund said, feigning ignorance. "So, have you decided to give him something as a token of your... regard?"

Unable to meet his eyes, Per struggled on, "Yes, my Lord, that is... inasmuch as I have nothing of worth to give him, in the way of a keepsake, ah... I have g—given him what he has... most urgently desired — that is... I have acquiesced to his wishes."

"Have you, really?" Edmund responded, amazed and relieved that Per was telling him this of his own accord. "Do you mean... to **all** of his wishes?"

Still flushed, Per nodded awkwardly and bit his lip.

"Well... how was it?" Edmund prodded him, sincerely interested.

"It was... marvelous," he answered, a smile spreading across his face despite his embarrassment. "Your Majesty will remember that I had feared it greatly, having been used before only by the most despicable of savage men; but with Darian it was... a wonder and a delight. Had I but known how much different it could be — how much more pleasurable, at the hands of a kind and considerate man — I would have consented to it at once. I now regret the time I wasted while at the castle (of Anvard, of course) because of my own folly and ignorance."

"How extraordinary," Edmund mused aloud, "that what was only pain and horror with some men, might be pleasure and delight with another! But I'm glad that you've been able to experience the one as well as the other."

"Yes — I am grateful that he continued to pursue me, even here," Per agreed.

"But now, tell me honestly: Would you rather go with him back to Archenland? Now that you know you have nothing to fear from him..."

"Oh! No, your Majesty — I did not mean... that is to say, I never intended..." Wringing his hands, Per chose his words. "I could not go with him, even if I desired to, for his father would disown him if he knew. His sire is very stern about such things," he explained, "and would no more tolerate it in his house than your Majesty would a traitor in your court. But I would not leave your service, King Edmund, for anything! He is a kind man and a worthy master, 'tis true, but... for all I esteem him, I do not... **love** him."

Edmund stared at him for a long moment, digesting this statement.

"So... even if he were only going back to Anvard, and not his father's house... you wouldn't want to go with him?"

Per shook his head, the redness of his cheeks returning to a normal hue.

"No, my Lord. I know very little when it comes to these matters, but from what little I **do** know, I can say with surety that I do not love him as he loves me; and such an imbalance of affection could not help but place a strain on the one bearing the heavier weight of the burden. Even if we could live in brazen exposure, what happiness could we hope for, if in time he grew to hate me for my indifference?"

"I suppose... But couldn't you grow to love him, over time?"

"If, in all these years, with all his gentle solicitude, I could not grow to love him already, what assurance have I that it would happen now? No, my Lord — it is best that we part ways while we are still on the tenderest of terms, that our fondness may be unblemished in our memories."

Per plucked a long blade of grass to twist in his hands while Edmund took another sip of water and checked that the rest of the hunting party were not leaving yet. Darian was watching them, though he made no move to approach them.

"I guess you're right. I know even less about such things (romance and all that rot) than you do, so I won't pretend otherwise," the young king conceded. "It just seems like rotten luck that Darian is so fond of you, and you're fond of him, too, in your own way, but not enough that it would work out well for both of you."

"Such is the mystery and the madness of love," Per said sadly. "All too often, it is shot like an arrow at its mark, only to miss and fall to the ground. Most ballads that I've heard (in Archenland, at least) have to do with one whose love is not returned; they are filled with sorrow, but it seems that true love cannot be dissuaded even in the face of indifference. I think it must be an involuntary thing, which entraps one's heart despite one's best endeavours to escape it. I see Darian struggle against it, and wish... not to suffer so, but to know what it must feel like to love another so deeply as to be helpless to do otherwise."

"Yes... I wonder what it must be like, too," Edmund said, reflecting on how Peter had fallen in love with a girl whom he could not marry.

"If you wish, you could ask Darian — as your Majesty knows of his affliction, he would not keep any secrets from you."

Edmund considered this, then stood up, saying, "I think I shall, after all. There is a certain... er... person that I know, who is suffering from the same 'affliction,' and I should like to know how best to help."

When they drew near to the knight, Per informed him of his master's curiosity, and Darian was happy to satisfy him.

"What does it feel like?" was Edmund's first and very straightforward question.

"It feels as though one is soaring higher than the clouds, like a great bird — a single smile is enough to give the heart wings," Darian answered with a smile of his own. "But even the gentlest rebuff, no matter how kindly meant, can plunge one into the darkest abyss where ne'er sun was seen. And though you be the bravest man in the land, to see your love approaching may set your heart to fluttering like a trapped dove and your knees to knocking for fear of giving the least offense. You would rather die a thousand deaths than be parted from your love for an instant..."

The longing look which he cast upon Per was lost on Edmund, for he was stunned by the latter description that Darian had given.

_Fluttering heart... knocking knees... Does that mean...? _

Abruptly he demanded, "Do you ever feel like there are bees buzzing inside of you?"

"Bees, my Lord?" Darian echoed, startled, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I believe one's nerves could seem very much like the humming of bees."

"And hornets? Stinging you all over from the **inside?**"

"Ah! Yes. There is sharp pain in the bowels when one's love does not return one's affections, and may feel much like hornets, as you have said. Even the richest food and drink may turn to dust and ashes in one's mouth. Jealousy over one's love — regardless of whether he returns those affections (or she, so please your Majesty) — is a common symptom of this illness. But King Edmund," Darian said, observing the young monarch's face more closely, for he had suddenly paled, "how would you know of such pains, unless..."

"I must be in love," Edmund blurted out, helplessly and miserably.


	40. The Hunt

My Fair Brother

* * *

"In love?" Per echoed in surprise.

"With whom?" Darian asked.

"Ah—I... Well... I mean..." Edmund stuttered, caught off-guard by the question. Some of what Peter had told him rose to the surface of his memory and he feared that they might scoff at him (though perhaps not to his face) if they learned that he had fallen in love with his own brother. However, he also realised that of all his friends, these two were the most likely to understand his predicament.

"If you would rather not speak her name, your Majesty," Darian hastened to add, "we shall respect your wishes. Forgive my impertinence — I was startled and spoke without thinking."

"No, it's all right," Edmund said with a sigh. "It's just that... I need you both to swear to the utmost secrecy."

"Of course, my Lord," Darian replied gravely, and Per clasped a hand over his breast as he vowed, "I would never betray you, your Majesty."

"All right, then," the wretched monarch responded. However, his doubts overcoming him, he demanded of Darian again, "But do you think that I... I'm in love? Really and truly?"

"From what your Majesty has described — jealousy to the point of pain, and overtaxed nerves causing a trembling in the body," the knight mused, "and all this precipitated by the actions of, or centered upon, one specific person?"

"Yes. I... I hadn't thought about it in that way before, but... yes."

"And you find yourself drawn to her? Wanting to spend as much time with her as possible?"

"Uh, yes. Definitely," Edmund answered, dreading the moment that he would have to inform Darian that it was a 'him' and not a 'her.'

"Perhaps even — I crave your Majesty's indulgence — even feeling desirous of this lady in a... physically intimate way?"

Edmund's heart sank yet further. "Yes," he whispered.

"And is every waking moment not otherwise occupied devoted to thoughts about her?"

All he could do was nod, biting his lip.

"Then there can be no doubt, my Lord," was Darian's somber pronouncement. "You have been shot by love's cruel arrow... cruel, that is, if your lady does not return your affections; but perhaps your Majesty has been blessed by a kinder fate than... than those in the oft-sung ballads of love."

If Edmund were not so distracted, he would have perceived that Darian had almost referred to his own woeful circumstance, but at the moment he could only lean against the nearest boulder in dismay.

"No... I fear I shall suffer the same sad fate," he stated, slowly wrenching the words out. "For I have fallen in love with the most impossible of objects..."

The other two remained silent, waiting for him to speak of his own accord, while Edmund looked across the field to where the rest of the hunting party were gathered. He saw Peter walking with King Lune and, for the first time, recognised the longing in his breast for what it was.

"It's... It's Peter," he finally confessed in a low tone, though there were none other close enough to overhear him, not even the Trees. "I know it's foolish, but... I can't help it."

"Oh!" Darian gasped, surprised to find that King Edmund (like himself) was attracted to another male. Per simply stared at him, openmouthed.

"Is it really so bad? I mean, in Archenland, would it be bad to... to fall in love with your own brother?" Edmund asked, wishing to get past the worst of it.

"It is not unheard-of," Darian assured him kindly, "even though it **is** rather rare... But with such a noble brother as the High King — well-knit in form and comely in countenance, not to mention his regal bearing and grace — it is hardly to be wondered at. As for it being considered '**bad**,' your Majesty, I believe that most who have suffered the pangs of love would say 'unfortunate' instead. Surely, it can be no worse a calamity than falling for someone of one's own sex, in and of itself."

"That's what I thought," Edmund said, relieved. "Since it's not like you can make babies, anyhow, I didn't think it should matter that much! Once you got over the fact that, well... you don't like girls."

Per glanced over at King Peter, who was still talking with King Lune, and asked with foreboding, "Does his Highness... prefer the company of women?"

"I'm afraid so," Edmund sighed, his heartache evident. "He doesn't even approve of... you know, two chaps being in that kind of relationship. He says it's wicked, and won't hear of it. He won't even... well..." Edmund swallowed. "Let's just say that he's very concerned with being proper about this sort of thing."

"As well he should be," Darian gently put in. "He is the High King, after all, and must set an example for his subjects in all things. He is also honour-bound (if your Majesty will pardon my candor) to produce an heir to the throne. In his position, he has no latitude for indulging in such tastes, even supposing that he **had** them."

The lump in Edmund's throat now threatened to choke him with its size as he nodded.

"It's just that... I—I know it's selfish, but I don't **want** him to get married," he admitted in a hoarse whisper, his expression stricken.

"Of course not, my Lord. That is only natural," Darian said consolingly. Per drew near to place a commiserating arm round Edmund's shoulders, wishing that he could do more to comfort his master.

#

Peter happened to steal a look in his brother's direction (cautiously, mindful of King Lune's warning), wondering what the three young friends could be talking about, and was startled to see Per's affectionate gesture towards Edmund. It was with difficulty that he turned his face away, trying to maintain a calm appearance as he agreed with Glordus' suggestion to move the hunting party on. From the way that Darian had dogged Per's steps ever since the Archenlandians had arrived in Narnia, Peter was quite certain that the two boys whom Edmund had seen kissing were none other than Per and Darian, and he now felt that they must be responsible for his brother's sudden and persistent interest in physical intimacy.

_I do wish I could get him away from them,_ he thought with irritation. _He doesn't need them to plant such shameful ideas in his head! But of course, Darian is our guest and must be treated with courtesy; and Per is Ed's squire, so he __**has**__ to stay close to him... _

Peter himself had kept his distance from Edmund since that morning, in part out of shame for having very nearly lost control over his bodily yearnings, but also out of the fear that he might let slip a word, glance, or touch which would reveal his unnatural attraction towards his brother. Now he wanted nothing more than to cast caution aside and wedge himself between his love and all others, with the thinly-veiled excuse of protecting him from their corrupting influences, when in truth he wished to capture Edmund's attention and keep the gaze of those luminous brown eyes focused solely upon himself.

_I really must speak to him,_ was the only thought that crossed his conscious mind, with some vague notion of warning him about consorting with those other two. As they rounded out the morning's hunt by shooting some waterfowl, the party stopped beside a clear, cold creek to drink and (for those who had been dressing the meat) to wash up, so Peter took the opportunity to approach Edmund. As he came closer, however, his original intentions were set aside for more pressing matters.

"Edmund!" he whispered fiercely after gasping at what he saw. "What happened to your **face?** And your hands, too — they're all scratched up!"

"Oh, uh... I tripped and fell into some brambles," Edmund answered uncomfortably, hoping that he would not be pressed for more details on where or when he had encountered those brambles. Of course Per and Darian had noticed the scratches, too, but had not mentioned anything for fear of embarrassing the young king; Peter had not seen them in the dimness of the tent that morning and, having succeeded in avoiding his brother for the past few hours, he was shocked to see them for the first time by the light of day.

"Do they sting?"

"No, not anymore. They're not that deep."

"Still... you should have them looked at by one of the Centaurs. It's a pity Mrs. Dumplesugar didn't come with us — her salve worked wonders on my hand..."

"I suppose she'll lecture me when we get home, since the thorns tore my hose, too," Edmund sighed.

"She won't mind making you a new pair, especially since you would have outgrown them soon enough," Peter pointed out. "But she'll let me have it if I don't get you treated as best we can—"

"Oh, Peter!" Edmund protested. "They're already healed over, so don't make such a fuss about it. Honestly, you can be as bad as Susan sometimes..."

The retort that had begun to form on Peter's lips died there. _Do I fuss too much over Ed? Am I letting my feelings for him show?_ he wondered, standing irresolutely for a moment. He took a deep breath before replying, "Fine. Just be sure you keep the cuts clean, and don't pick the scabs off until they're well healed. Mrs. Dumplesugar will have **my** skin if you go home with any of those infected."

"I know jolly well not to scratch at them," Edmund shot back indignantly. "I'm not a child!"

The moment the words left his lips, the younger boy regretted them, and the hollow look that came over Peter's face only made him feel worse.

"All right, then — I'll leave you to it," Peter said quietly before picking his way back to where Arismenos (his ride for the day) was cropping up some grass. Although he scolded himself for pothering over Edmund and offending him by stating the obvious, the sharp words uttered by his love had been a blow. Suddenly, he wanted to be rid of the hunting party, to be back in his own room at Cair Paravel where he might be allowed to nurse his sore heart in privacy; but of course that was not to be.

As for Edmund, who had not been feeling well to start with and then was shocked by the discovery that his inner turmoil had been caused by falling in love — with the one person in the world who seemed most determined to reject all advances of that sort — he nearly became sick at the realisation that his words had crushed his brother's spirit. He could tell by how Peter threaded his way through the rest of the hunters (dazed, as though in a trance) that he had been grievously hurt, but he felt paralysed and could not follow.

"Some water, my Lord?" Per asked, holding out the water skin which he had just re-filled. He had approached in time to catch some of the brothers' exchange and was surprised to find them so at odds with each other.

"Thanks," Edmund said morosely and took a sip. At least it helped to settle his stomach. "I can't believe I just did that..."

"Did what, your Majesty?"

"I bit back at Peter when he was just being... **Peter**, you know — always worrying about things — but I got so annoyed that I spouted off without thinking." He took another drink of water, swallowing hard. "I was an ass."

Per glanced around to make sure that nobody was around before saying in a low voice, "I don't understand, King Edmund... I thought that you loved your brother?"

"I do," was his quick reply. "It's just that... it's hard to think straight when you've got all these bees and hornets crawling around inside of you, stinging you on the inside, and now that I know what they're **from**, it almost seems **worse**... They made a bigger racket the closer Peter came, and then I had to try not to let on that I—I like him, and Peter kept going on about these silly scratches..." Edmund pressed his palms against his eyelids. "I just feel so **stupid**."

"Well, if it troubles you so much, your Majesty," Per made bold to say, "perhaps you should apologise to King Peter."

"You're absolutely right," Edmund agreed, and — galvanized by the simplicity of the idea — strode off in that instant. He rushed to catch up with Peter before the High King had begun the rather arduous task of re-mounting the Unicorn (for of course no one in their right mind would suggest putting a saddle on such a majestic Creature, and it is difficult to mount even a regular Horse without stirrups), grabbing his hand to catch his attention.

"Peter... I... I'm sorry," he panted, slightly out of breath. "I didn't mean to be... so short with you. That came out... all wrong..."

"Oh," the High King responded, still somewhat dazed. "Oh, Ed, it's all right — I was being a nag, and fussing at you like you didn't have any sense. I'm sorry..."

Before Peter could say any more, Edmund threw his arms about him in penitent relief. Naturally, Peter's hands slid around to his back to hold and comfort him, although the next moment he had recovered enough to feel the eyes of all the others upon them. Patting Edmund awkwardly in what he hoped was a brotherly gesture, Peter detached himself from the one who, more than any other in the world, he wished to hold and cherish forever.

"Well then, I'm glad that's cleared up," he said in a jesting tone to remind him that they were not alone. "We should get back to the camp for lunch."

Edmund nodded, a little disappointed that their embrace had been cut short but reassured that they were no longer in discord. He wore a tired but genuine smile when he returned to Per, who stood waiting next to Phillip with a delighted smile of his own.

King Lune had noted the brothers' brief display with keen interest, and how unreservedly affectionate the younger was with the elder.

_He knows not what pain it must cause his brother,_ he mused while they rode back at an easy canter. _He is too young to be mindful of the yearnings of the flesh. How tortuous it must be for Peter! To have one so trusting, and so fair, to be yielded into his custody! I cannot fault him at his tender years for growing more fond of the lad than he ought._

###

When they returned to the camp, Susan was still teaching Corin how to shoot, for he had bawled upon being left behind when the menfolk left for the hunt. Felicity and her helpers had a marvelous spread prepared, and the Fauns quickly roasted some choice cuts of the venison that the hunters had brought back, wrapping them in strips of bacon left over from breakfast and basting them with wine. Everyone ate heartily, for they were all hungry from being out in the open air, but even so there was no lack of food.

As pleased as King Lune was to hear of his son's progress with the bow and arrow (small ones made by the Dwarfs to fit Corin's hands), he left the table and ambled over to where Edmund was having his scratches tended to. One of the Satyrs had a salve for just such wounds, and Lucy was helping to apply it.

"How now, my young friend," the older monarch said as he approached. "All cut up? And was this the cause of thy lack of shots thus far?"

"Good my Lord," Edmund replied, feeling a blush creep up his neck, "I wished only to leave that honour to you and our other guests."

Lucy finished slathering the last scrape on his knee and gave the jar of salve back to the Satyr.

"That's very polite of you, Edmund," she said with an approving grin, "but next time, try to avoid the thorn bushes, too!"

When her brother stood up, muttering his thanks, King Lune clapped him on the shoulder and led him away in a confidential manner.

"Come walk with me, King Edmund," he said softly. "I have somewhat to say to thee, which is for thy benefit as well as thy noble brother's."

Edmund knew instinctively what it was about, but could not refuse.

"I suppose this has to do with when you found me sitting with Peter," he began, earning him a piercing look from King Lune.

"Indeed. As well as how thou accosted him today, moments before we rode here."

Thinking back, Edmund's blush spread to his face.

"Are you going to tell me that that was wrong?"

"Wrong to have such sincere devotion for thy brother? Nay, my friend," the older king deflected. "'Tis only right and good. But I would recommend expressing thy affection in... less intimate ways. Thou art fast approaching the summer of manhood, leaving the spring of youth behind; it behooves thee to act with more reserve, as befitting thy station."

Edmund scowled at the ground and said nothing.

"Thy brother hath already grown into the first portion of summer," King Lune continued, "and is subject to its powers and passions. Thou must be mindful of them and, as thou loveth him, abstain from doing aught that would trouble him."

Halting and turning to face him, Edmund declared, "I can't help it — I **love** him!" with such ardour that the older man could not mistake his meaning.

King Lune stared at him for what seemed an hour before breathing, "Aslan help us!"


	41. Arguing with King Lune

My Fair Brother

* * *

"I don't think even Aslan can help me with this," Edmund responded wretchedly. "If Peter's right, he wouldn't approve of it. And **Peter** most definitely doesn't approve of it."

"Ah! Hast thou discussed this matter with thy brother, then?" King Lune asked, trying to find his footing in the quagmire of the two boys' affections.

Edmund shook his head. "No. Well, that is... not specifically. But I've asked him about... you know, two boys doing that sort of thing... in general terms. And he's been... pretty adamant that it's improper an—and wrong. He won't even entertain the idea..."

"I see. So thou hast not told him of thy... unusual infatuation?"

"No. How could I, since I only figured it out this morning, myself?" Edmund kicked at a small pebble, missing it but not really caring. "It gave me quite a turn, I'll admit, since I've always avoided all that... **romantic** stuff. I thought it was just for girls, you know, so it came as a shock to find out that I'd actually fallen in love with someone myself. But once I realised that that was exactly what had happened, it all started to make sense — the jealousy, the pain, and the... the way I just want to be **near** him all the time..."

King Lune's brow furrowed in concern with the prospect of both brothers discovering their mutual attraction looming, like a thundercloud, in his mind.

"My friend, if thou canst keep this knowledge to thyself," he began slowly, "and not inform thy brother, I would urge thee to do so; for, if thou dost disclose it, it could be of no benefit — Peter loveth thee dearly as a brother, and it would only cause him pain to know that thou desirest of him that which he cannot — **must** not — give. Surely, thou dost not wish to burden him with a care that he cannot alleviate?"

"No! Of course not," Edmund quickly answered. "I hadn't even **thought** of telling him, since he's so dead set against it. Besides, he... he's already in love with someone, so... there's nothing I **can** do..."

The older king observed the younger bite his lip in an obvious effort to keep it from trembling, and nodded with understanding as well as some relief.

"Indeed, it seemeth that neither of thy loves is destined for fulfillment, which is a hard thing; but thou mayest be a better help to thy brother in that thou now understandest the suffering which he must endure. And, as thou must keep from him the knowledge of thy own affection, so canst thou make allowance for the secret which he must keep from thee as well — a comprehension that should be a comfort to ye both."

"I suppose," Edmund agreed, though morosely. However, a moment later his head snapped up and he stared at the other man with sudden suspicion, demanding, "Do you mean to say... you **knew** that Peter was in love?"

"I did; he confided in me himself," King Lune replied, nonplussed. "Wherefore doth thou ask?"

"Because it took me an effort to **pry** it out of him, and then he wouldn't tell me who it was. And he still hasn't, and won't even tell me **why** he can't, although I can guess that it's someone we all know pretty well..."

"'Twould be best for thee, and him, if thou dost not press him on this matter," King Lune hastily cautioned. "He hath his reasons for it, else he would not seek so earnestly to hide it from thee, his most trusted counselor, brother, and friend."

Edmund felt foreboding rise in his stomach as the swarm of hornets stung him in an ever-increasing frenzy.

"You speak of my brother's reasons, Sire," he said in a measured tone as he fought against the pain. "Do you mean to tell me that you know what those reasons are?"

Caught in the younger king's piercing gaze, King Lune made no attempt to dissemble.

"Indeed, I do," he answered.

"And do you," Edmund began, then took a breath, desperately trying to retain control over his emotions. "Do you know... who it is?"

"Yes," King Lune said with as grave a countenance as he could muster, hoping to discourage any further inquiry.

Edmund struggled against his natural inclination to ask, point-blank, who it was, and what reasons Peter might have for keeping everything so covert; for he knew that if Peter had informed their friend in confidence, it was wrong (and useless) to ask King Lune to divulge the secret. However, it rankled him to discover that Peter had confided in someone else rather than in him, his own brother. A moment of heavy silence passed between the two kings before Edmund realised another point of curiosity — one about which he could safely inquire.

"You knew that Peter was in love with someone already, yet you've been pressing him to acquaint himself with the young ladies of your court," he pointed out. "What do you mean by it?"

"Mean? Only to provide thy brother with, er... a more suitable candidate for his queen," King Lune responded. "I had hoped to distract him with their several beauties, in order that his... hopeless affections (poor soul!) might lessen or be transferred to another object."

Edmund shook his head with a frown. "It won't work, you know — at least, not with **those** girls. And I think it's simply cruel to foist them on to him when it's obvious that his heart is elsewhere. I don't mean to be impertinent, but if one of your favourite hunting dogs got lost, it wouldn't ease your mind to be given another one, would it? No, you'd probably spend days looking for the poor dog before you'd give up on it, and even if you had a hundred others, it just wouldn't be the same."

The good king opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again, having to concede to his young friend's logic.

"Love — this kind of love, I mean — is so much stronger than anything else I've ever felt," Edmund continued. "I don't think it will ever go away... not completely. Maybe I'm wrong, and time really does heal all wounds, but it certainly doesn't feel that way right now. And it seems rather... insulting, I guess, to expect someone to fall out of love so easily. As if it were even possible! After all, if you didn't **choose** to fall **in** love, how can you decide to fall **out** of it?"

"There is still the hope that he might fall in love with another," King Lune suggested. "I was merely trying to shew Peter that there is an abundance of lovely ladies in the world, and that he need not set his cap at one sole object, especially when... it proveth to be unfruitful. But thou made mention, a moment past, that the maidens of my court could not possibly tempt him — what, pray tell, did you mean by it?"

"Oh! I didn't mean any offense," Edmund quickly replied. "It's just that... well, most of them are so silly that they'll laugh at anything Peter says; and the few that are rather sharp are... well... **conniving**."

"How so?"

"Ah... um..."

"My friend, spare not my feelings in this, for I desire to know what paradigm of womanhood thou dost wish for thy dearest brother, that I may seek out such a lady for him."

"Well, I did notice that one girl... kept bringing him food and drink, when we were at Anvard. Not that he didn't appreciate it, of course, but..."

"It smacked of artifice," King Lune finished for him, nodding. "I see..."

"And it seemed rather... condescending, I suppose, for lack of a better word — to think that Peter would rely on his appetite to select a... sweetheart. Not that there's much choice in the matter, as far as I know, but I hardly think that he'd be swayed by his stomach alone."

"No, indeed," the older king concurred. "So then, what dost thou encompass for a lady befitting thy royal brother? What qualities and virtues must she possess?"

"Well," Edmund carefully reflected, "she has to be sweet and amiable, of course."

"Naturally. And lovely to behold as well."

"I'm sure that wouldn't hurt," he responded, even though the hornets stung him mercilessly at the thought. "All of the girls you brought are pretty — I shan't deny **that**. It's just that... none of them seem... quite **right**. Like there's something missing..."

"Canst thou put thy finger on what is lacking?" King Lune queried.

"Well... he'd want a girl that's sensible, you know, but not... crafty. She has to be honest and trustworthy to be a Queen of Narnia — I guess as Peter's wife, she'd be the High Queen... She can't be a squeamish girl, either, who might faint when she met a Marsh-Wiggle or one of our other unusual folk. Come to think of it, we do have a rather queer assortment of Creatures in Narnia, so she would have to be quite stout-hearted."

"Brave and true... much like thy brother himself," King Lune commented with approval.

"Yes, and willing to take on any adventure that might come our way," Edmund added. "And of course she would have to love the Animals, although I think it would be hard not to, since our Talking Animals are no different from People and in some ways much nicer."

"Quite right. I trow there would be little trouble on that account. What else?"

"Oh, I don't know..."

Edmund cast his eyes back to the pavilion where the others were milling about to stretch their legs or simply visiting with friends both old and new. He caught a flash of movement as someone small — Lucy, he realised the next instant — darted out from between two Centaurs in pursuit of an even smaller person, who could be none other than Prince Corin. The tall figure of King Peter joined them and hauled the recalcitrant prince up on to his shoulder to take him back where he belonged. The pang of longing in Edmund's breast nearly took his breath away, especially when his keen eyes saw (even at this distance) how affectionately Lucy clutched her oldest brother's free hand, and the gentle smile which Peter turned to her.

"**Oh!**" Edmund cried, as if he had been pierced by an arrow — which was how it felt to him, in truth. For a kernel of doubt had been planted in him by that sight, and from thence it had sprouted into suspicion, and had rapidly shot up into full-grown conviction in a matter of seconds.

"What is't, my friend?" King Lune asked in surprise.

"I see it — I know who it is, now," Edmund replied bitterly, his youthful face contorted in agony. "How could I have missed it for so long? Of course... It's Lucy — his own sister!"

King Lune gaped, almost denying that supposition but catching himself, just in time, from saying anything that might narrow down the scope of possible candidates in Edmund's mind. For he felt it as an incontrovertible matter that any admission of love from one brother to the other would lead to a reciprocal declaration, which would entail the immoral and ruinous consummation of their love — a circumstance which he was prepared to prevent by any honourable means. And so he found that he could say nothing to allay his young friend's suspicions.

"Lucy... of course! She's always been his favourite," Edmund muttered as though to himself. "She's sweet, and honest, and perfectly suited for him. How stupid of me! It was right in front of my nose the whole time... But of course poor Peter couldn't breathe a word of it — not even to me, I suppose, for Lucy would feel just awful if she found out, and I'd already spilled to her and Su about Peter being in love... And what with her being a girl, it **does** matter that she's family... Oh, poor Peter!"

However, the sigh that escaped Edmund's lips then was perhaps only half for his brother; the other half was for his own heartache and disappointment, as (in King Lune's silence) he continued to list his younger sister's "qualities and virtues" in his mind, drawing less-than-flattering comparisons to his own character.

_I'm more often sulky than I am cheerful, and I could never be as sweet as Lu, even if I tried,_ he thought with growing dismay. _And what would be the use, even if I could? I'm not a girl, so Peter would never even consider me — even if I weren't his sibling! Although since he fell for Lucy, I suppose I might've had a chance if I'd been a girl... but it's no good wishing for that now... _

Seeing him lapse deeper into melancholy, King Lune attempted to break in on his thoughts with something appealing.

"My dearest Edmund, I comprehend now that none of the young ladies from my court would suit thy brother, but perhaps one of them might assuage thy own heart? Or if not, perhaps if thou wouldst elucidate for me what manner of maid might tempt thine eyes..."

"I thank you, my Lord, for your kind attentions; but perhaps you would extend your kindness so far as to leave me be," Edmund answered dully. "It would save you the trouble of exerting yourself for nought, and spare me the trouble of dancing and talking and smiling when I haven't the least inclination to do so. Having only recently learned why I've been so drawn to my brother (unnaturally, as you may say) I can't believe that my heart will be released from this state of... enslavement, almost, to his person, anytime soon. And I'd rather not give any girl the idea that I'm interested, when I'm not — so utterly and **completely** not."

"What dost thou intend to do, then?" the older monarch asked, barely masking his anxiety.

"Do? Why, what **is** there to do?" Edmund responded, downcast. "There can be no hope for me, just as there is none for Peter... What **can** I do but bear it as best I can? But if Peter can bear it — and he **has** borne it, despite everything, like a true Man — I can do no less than learn from his example."

"I've no doubt that thou wilt," King Lune said as reassuringly as he could. "But wilt thou also abjure from addressing him so familiarly, and thus curtail his distress on that account?"

"What do you mean?" Edmund demanded, feeling panic rise like bile within him.

"Only that thou eschew embracing thy brother in full view of the court, for thy fervour may cause some to deduce the true nature of thy affection for him," was the King of Archenland's proposal. "As well, thou shouldst refrain from any intimate contact in thy private moments with him, for fear that it may lead to... shall we say, less than honourable communications between thee."

Edmund bit his lip, making the blood rise to the surface, while his fair cheeks turned even more pale. Although he now knew the reason why he had so desired for and reveled in his brother's embrace, and (for the most part) acknowledged that his friend's advice was sound, the prospect of giving up his special time with Peter was deplorable.

"You mean I mustn't sit on his lap anymore?" he gasped, blinking his eyes hard against the threatening tears. "But... I shall soon grow too big for it, anyway, and what's the harm in a few minutes each night? Besides, Peter doesn't seem to mind it, and it's not like anybody else sees us when we're like that — all right, **you** saw us that one time, but that was only because Corin ran into the room—"

"But doth thou not see, dear lad," King Lune interrupted, pleading earnestly, "how it disturbeth thy brother's composure? He may conceal from thee how greatly it doth, but surely thou art old enough to discern it. And if it didst not trouble him, why wouldst he ask me to speak to thee on his behalf?"

Edmund stared at the older man (until now, one of his most favourite people in the world) for a long moment while his words sank into his brain.

"What are you saying?" he finally whispered. "Are you telling me that... Peter **asked** you to tell me... not to do that?"

"Indeed," King Lune replied, unaware of the deep consternation which he was causing Edmund. "He was at his wit's end, knowing not how to apprise you of the... impropriety, and indecorum, of such intimacy between two men — let alone two brothers..."

Edmund scarcely heard the rest of his friend's admonitions. The only thought ringing through his mind, over and over, was this conclusion:

_Peter doesn't want to hold me anymore!_


	42. The Greatest Trial

My Fair Brother

* * *

When the hunt resumed after their repast, Edmund directed Phillip to hang back in order to "give our guests the best positions," but in reality it was because he felt too numb to even attempt to join in. His eyes followed Peter as the High King entertained King Lune and the Archenlandian lords at the front of the party, while an ache gnawed at his insides where the hornets used to be, eating away at him until he felt completely hollow.

Since Per dutifully stayed close to him and Darian stayed close to Per, they formed their own small group, allowing Edmund to remain silent and lost in his own thoughts while the two lovers (well aware of their impending separation) made the best of their time together. Per recounted how he had spent his time thus far in Narnia and Darian listened with rapt attention. Both of them had noticed how disheartened the young king seemed ever since his chat with King Lune but tactfully did not mention it, waiting instead for Edmund to inform them himself what was the matter. However, as Edmund made no effort to start a conversation, they left him alone to his musings and spoke unobtrusively with each other.

Edmund was distracted not only by King Lune's injunction against approaching his brother in an intimate manner, both in public and in private, but also — and more powerfully — by his mistaken conclusion that Lucy was the object of Peter's love. He wondered if Peter felt as cruel a throe of pain from his inadmissible affection towards Lucy as he himself felt for Peter. Knowing that they both suffered from the same malady might have given him some comfort, since they now had more in common than before, but the burden of his heart seemed to grow heavier rather than lighter. He also could not help the sharp spasm of jealousy that seized him when he considered how his sister had acquired Peter's love without so much as trying, when he so desperately longed for it and believed it to be beyond his grasp.

_Even if I'd been born a girl, and not his sister, I wouldn't stand a chance,_ he reminded himself. _I'm not sweet and kind like Lu, and anyhow, Peter hardly notices any of the other girls since his heart is fixed on Lucy! How would I even get his attention? Pester him with food and drink like Lady Verinia?_

This gave him pause, since it caused him to realise that a young woman in love had very few means by which to gain a gentleman's affections. In fact, he saw with sudden clarity that he had done almost the same thing, in essence: appealed to Peter's physical appetite (though of a somewhat different nature) to claim his attention.

_I guess I shouldn't have judged her so harshly — I didn't know what else to do, either! I got Peter to do all __**sorts**__ of things, even though he'd made it clear that he thought they were wrong and wicked, by keeping after him until he gave in... by taking advantage of what his body wanted! That's why he had to tell me to quit, to leave him alone. I wish he hadn't asked King Lune to say it, but I guess I had it coming... I didn't realise __**why**__ I wanted him to touch me so much, but I kept pestering him — just like Lady Verinia — until he'd finally had enough, and now he doesn't want anything to do with me... _

Edmund bowed his head in anguish, barely able to hold back his tears. He was, of course, too extreme in his assessment of the limitations which Peter had decreed; they were actually more of King Lune's doing than Peter's, but he was not able to make that distinction. Combined with the knowledge that Peter had confided in their friend rather than in him about the affairs of his heart, Edmund's heart was heavy indeed.

_I've acted like a fool... like a spoilt kid trying to get what he wants, even after he's been told he can't have it and mustn't keep asking. No wonder Peter doesn't trust me with important matters anymore! I wish I'd figured out sooner what the hornets were about... Comes from not being around Human People much, I suppose. But it __**does**__ seem like horrible rotten luck to find out I'm in love, only to be told that same day to keep away from the one I love!_

He sighed, oblivious to the concerned glances which Per and Darian cast his way, as well as to the bustle of the hunt a stone's throw ahead of them. He tried to console himself with the thought that Peter was suffering in the same manner, but it only impressed upon him the capriciousness of love.

_It doesn't seem fair that Lucy should get all of Peter's attention, when she doesn't love him like I do... although it isn't fair that Peter should fall in love with Lucy, either, since he can't have her as his wife or queen. Poor Peter... I wish I could do something to help him with his pain. But I suppose I was only making it worse by harping on him so to touch me and stuff... Maybe the best thing I can do for him is to leave him alone, like he wants me to..._

It was hardly a solution to his liking, but Edmund resolved to obey his brother's request as best he could and to emulate him in his stoic acceptance of heartache. He attempted to rejoin the hunt and put on as brave a face as he could muster, although he succeeded in entertaining their southern guests about as well as he hunted; that is to say, none of his arrows hit their mark.

###

Peter had also noticed how despondent his brother had become, and it did not escape his attention that it had occurred immediately after King Lune had taken that little stroll with him. Although the High King trusted his friend and ally implicitly, he could not help but be anxious about what the older man had said to cause such a reaction in Edmund. Once, during a halt for water, he attempted to approach his brother but was deftly prevented by King Lune. He wished to speak in private with that gentleman as well, but was thwarted by the presence of so many courtiers from both countries. He resigned himself for the moment, vowing to speak with Edmund at length when this visit of state was over.

He had occasion to speak with his brother rather sooner, though, when the hunters returned to camp and went to their tents to wash up and change for dinner. Edmund, who felt unequal to the task of facing Peter after being told that their intimate moments (which he so enjoyed) had become a burden to him, assiduously kept his eyes averted as he washed at his own basin of warm water. Peter sensed the tension and struggled to come up with a casual way of engaging him in conversation.

"I say, Ed," he finally began, "are those cuts healing up all right?"

"They're fine," was Edmund's curt answer.

"Oh. Good," he responded, at a loss for words yet again, since the last time he had pursued the subject it had not ended well. While he rubbed himself with the soapy cloth once more for good measure, pondering what might be a safe topic to bring up, Edmund dried himself off and donned his dinner tunic. It was made of soft velvet in a deep shade of green that set off his fair features perfectly, and Peter paused in his motions to see him in it, even by the dim lamp light.

"Wait!" Peter called out when Edmund turned to leave the tent. "Your collar..."

"What?" Edmund asked, fingering the front of his collar aimlessly. He had looked back without thinking upon being called, and now was trying hard to not stare at Peter, who had crossed the room in two strides and was standing mere inches from him, naked from the waist up.

"Here... It was tucked under in the back," the older king explained as he smoothed it.

Edmund found himself transfixed by the sight of his brother's chest, a wide expanse of muscle under a taut skin bespeckled with freckles, slightly damp yet from the recent washing. There was one freckle in particular which stood out because of its darker shade, just above his right nipple. Edmund turned crimson when he realised that he could not take his eyes off of that spot — even more when he realised that Peter had noticed his intense scrutiny.

"What? Did I miss some dirt?" Peter asked, glancing down at himself self-consciously.

"N—No, I... uh... It just reminded me of Jeneth, the charioteer of the Moon," Edmund replied, referring to the star that crossed the Narnian sky just ahead and slightly to the south of the Moon.

"Oh!" Peter laughed. "I suppose we should inform Sageion that he can use my freckles for an astronomy lesson if need be — perhaps on a cloudy night."

Edmund only nodded before stumbling out of the tent, and inhaled deep draughts of fresh air as he walked briskly towards the dinner tables. His heart was thumping much faster than usual, which did not help his flushed cheeks, so he decided to take a turn around the field to stretch out his legs (since he **had** been riding all day) and to regain his composure.

_It wouldn't be so hard if Peter weren't so handsome!_ he thought miserably. _I can't help but notice, since I'm with him all the time... I don't suppose anybody else can love him like I do. I love every bit of him, down to the last freckle! Why, I'll bet none of those girls_ (glancing at a group of young ladies from Archenland) _would care about his freckles half as much as I do, even if he chose one of them to be his queen! It's intolerable to think that he might marry someone who doesn't love him and adore him as much as he deserves to be... _

This notion was only strengthened when the High King came out to the tables dressed in his royal-blue tunic, looking truly Magnificent as he smiled upon his guests and subjects. Peter, though aware that Edmund was still preoccupied by whatever he had discussed with King Lune, was encouraged enough by his joke about the star (which of course put him in mind of the happy evenings that they had spent together) to be satisfied that his brother was in no immediate danger, and had decided to throw himself full-heartedly into the festivities as befitting the host.

The meal was a scrumptious affair with fresh meat from the hunt and fresh fruit and vegetables brought in by the generous Narnians of the area. After loosening their tongues with wine, several Fauns began to sing some country ballads to the accompaniment of reed pipes and tiny harps, then the Dwarfs began clapping or tapping the tables in time to the tune. Pretty soon the tables were whisked away altogether to make room for dancing, and it was a jolly time of laughter and music as the various Narnian folk clopped, brayed, hooted, or shuffled along with their Human friends.

Peter, thirsty from the day's activities, had imbibed a little more wine than was his wont; it made him slightly giddy, but he skipped about with a carefree lightness as he switched partners — sometimes dancing with the girls from Archenland, sometimes with the Nymphs. In fact, he did better when he didn't worry so much about stepping on toes, and not only enjoyed the dances more but also presented himself to greater advantage. He had no lack of dance partners, of course.

Watching him, Edmund grew determined to follow his example, and for his first dance asked Lady Verinia (much to that lady's surprise) for he sincerely felt that he had wronged her in his initial judgment of her character. Though he doubted that she was as deeply in love with his brother as he was himself, she obviously held Peter in high regard, which recommended her discernment and taste; and in a way Edmund felt some affinity towards her, as a prisoner sentenced to the gallows might feel about another prisoner doomed to the same fate. Neither of their suits could succeed, he was certain, and while it did nothing to ease his own pain, it did not add to it by presenting the possibility of her some day becoming Peter's wife and queen.

He went through several more tunes, dancing with some of the less giggly girls as well as two Dryads and a Naiad. Deciding to sit out the next song, he accepted the chalice of pale wine which Per handed him and took a few sips before something caught his eye, almost causing him to drop the cup. Peter, in high spirits from the wine and music, had chosen Lucy to be his partner for this dance; and, since he had no qualms about showing how fond he was of his sister (unlike the reservations he might have had regarding Edmund), he was smiling as broadly and brightly as he ever had. That by itself could hardly have warranted Edmund's reaction, but coupled with his already firm belief that Peter was in love with her, to see them laughing and frolicking together was more than his heart could bear. Hardly had he thrust the chalice back at his startled squire before he fled into the nearest part of the woods.

Per hastened to set the chalice down and took off after his knight with Darian following close on his heels. They found the young king weeping, leaning against the trunk of a gnarled tree as though he could not remain on his feet without its support. Per approached him with caution.

"King Edmund?"

"Go... Leave me alone," he sobbed.

Per turned to Darian, unsure what to do, when the much larger figure of King Lune entered the forest behind them. Having seen his young friend turn away from the merriment with a stricken face, the older monarch had hurried from the other side of the ring of dancers to offer his assistance. Although checked in his steps by the muffled sounds of misery emanating from the tree, he rushed to Edmund's side and clutched him in a bone-creaking embrace.

"My poor lad! My poor, unfortunate, unhappy boy!" he murmured, petting Edmund as though he were a much younger child — as though he were his very own son, Corin's brother, only somewhat older. "What a cruel blow hath Fate dealt thee!"

Feeling Edmund's slim body convulse against his own, King Lune wondered (for the first time) if he might not have been mistaken to hide the two brothers' true affections, each from the other. How much wretchedness could be dispensed with if only they knew that their love was mutually reciprocated? How much relief would they both gain if they could share, in perfect honesty, what now lay hidden deep within their hearts? But King Lune was wise enough to realise that it would not — **could** not — stop there: once they had learnt of their common passion, it must be consummated. Once consummated, the two kings of Narnia might never be persuaded to be parted, to the detriment of not only their kingdom but also of their neighboring countries, of which Archenland was the chief by nature of geography as well as political alignment.

_It would never do,_ King Lune firmly told himself, while commiserating with Edmund's heartbreak with all of his tender soul. _Forgive me, my friend, but as thou canst not weigh this matter indifferently for thy youth and yearning, I must be resolute in thy stead! May Aslan grant you peace and comfort in this, perhaps thy greatest trial..._

Edmund, not knowing what manifold musings were passing through his friend's mind, allowed himself to cry freely upon his breast; for King Lune was still one of his favourite people, and it **was** comforting to be held in tacit sympathy as he let fall the tears which he had held at bay all afternoon. When his weeping had subsided, there seemed to be an even greater emptiness inside of him than had been heretofore, but at least the hornets were no longer stinging him.

"Thank you, my Lord," he sighed, pulling out a handkerchief with which to wipe his moistened face. Seeing the stains upon it — of the berry ink he had used to scribble on Peter's face, as well as of Peter's blood from when he had cut his hand — caused Edmund to double over with a gasp of pain. King Lune caught him, concern etching deep lines in his brow.

"Wilt thou rest now, my friend?" he asked, signaling with a glance for Per to approach.

"Yes, I... I think I shall," Edmund agreed, and consented to be led by his squire through the shadows of the wood, back to Peter and his tent.


	43. Push and Pull

My Fair Brother

* * *

Peter could not remember when he had last seen his brother and would have gladly gone in search of him, but the royal dance was in full swing, preventing him from leaving unobtrusively. When he was certain that Per and Darian were missing as well, he felt a momentary shudder of dread.

_By Jove, I hope they're not... teaching him — or __**showing**__ him — anything else! _

It was late when the Archenlanders began to yawn and slip away to their own tents by ones and twos; however, the Narnian Fauns, Dwarfs, and Nymphs were known to dance all night, so it was with mounting frustration that the High King watched the number of revelers dwindle. Eventually, though, it was only a small group of woodland folk in the circle, and since Susan and Lucy had turned in for the night and none of their guests remained, Peter felt that he had fulfilled his duty. He entered his own tent quietly, seeing that the lamp next to Edmund's bed had been blown out.

Unfortunately, he did **not** see that there was a low table (at a comfortable height for Felicity) set on the floor with the usual tea things, as he was distracted with trying to ascertain whether Edmund was sleeping or not. He tripped on a corner of the table, stubbing his toe in the process, and set the china to rattling as he crashed to the floor.

"It's all right, Pete," came Edmund's dry voice from the darkened side of the tent. "You needn't tiptoe around — I'm awake."

"Fat lot of good it did to try, anyhow," Peter replied, chagrined. "Sorry, old chap. I didn't see this here... Would you care to join me for a spot of tea?"

He proffered the invitation with some humour, hoping to persuade him in that way; however, the only response he received was an expressionless, "No, thanks."

Feeling snubbed, Peter went about his usual routine of preparing for bed, but could not dispel the growing sense that something was awry — that his brother's lack of interest was due to more than simple weariness. Remembering his despondent mood of the day, Peter decided to confront him before it could carry over into the next, and sat down next to Edmund's bed where he lay with his back turned to the room.

"I say, Ed," he began softly, "is anything the matter?"

"What? No, of course not," Edmund replied — too hastily, Peter thought.

"You seemed to be out of sorts today... and you left the dance rather early, too." Met with silence, Peter sighed and took a more direct approach. "What were you talking about with King Lune?"

Edmund bit his lip. He had crawled into bed while the sounds of merry-making were still echoing through the camp, and (imagining Peter to be dancing with Lucy again) had had another cry, which had only left him feeling more miserable and alone. Then he had found, much to his dismay, that he could not sleep, despite feeling tired; his mind was too much occupied with thoughts of Peter. By the time the object of his obsession had walked into the tent, he had scolded himself into vowing to be good, to obey the elder king's advice, and to bear his heartache without breathing another word of complaint. But now his heart threatened to overflow the flood-gates of his resolve and spill out of his mouth in a torrent.

Peter's misgivings were also growing as Edmund's silence grew darker and, without thinking, he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Please, Ed... tell me what's bothering you."

Edmund drew in a long, shaky breath — wishing that he could revel in the warmth of his brother's touch — and chose his words carefully.

"I just wish... you would've told me directly, instead of having King Lune tell me."

"Tell you what?" Peter prodded, unsure of what he meant.

"That you don't want to... do what we used to do. I suppose you **had** told me that it bothered you, even this morning, but since I **did** promise to not do that again — or try, anyhow — I wish you would've left it at that. You didn't need to set King Lune after me on top of everything **you'd** already said..."

"I didn't mean to 'set him after you,'" Peter explained, beginning to understand Edmund's contention. "I only wanted him to talk to you, so you'd see that I'm not the only one who thinks it's wrong."

"Then why... why did you have him tell me that... you didn't... you don't want to..." Edmund fought the rising hurt and anger. "That you don't want to hold me anymore?"

Peter gaped in amazement for a second before saying the first thing that came to mind: "I never said **that!**"

There was a pause as Edmund digested his answer.

"You... You didn't?"

"No. I... I don't know why King Lune said anything of the sort," Peter began, then realised that he did, in fact, know why. "Well, I suppose it's because he knows what it could lead to, and it's wicked, so he wants us to avoid such things, but..."

Edmund finally roused himself to sit up and stare at Peter with pale, tear-stained cheeks. If his lamp were lit, it would have been obvious that he had been crying, but as it was his face was still hidden in the shadows.

"So **you** never told him to forbid it?"

"No. I just... I needed you to understand. He meant well, I'm sure, but maybe he forgot to say that it was what **he** was telling you to do, not me..."

"So... it's not like... we can't have our tea time, like we used to?"

The hope in Edmund's voice nearly tore Peter's heart asunder, but he considered what he was being asked.

"Ed... if I could promise to not lead you astray in this, I suppose it would be all right... but the fact is, I can't. I have trouble remembering what I should and shouldn't do sometimes, when... when my body wants something so badly. Maybe it **is** better that we not... not get so close and... intimate."

Even in the dim light, Peter could sense that Edmund became crestfallen at his pronouncement.

"It's not that I don't **want** to, of course," he hastened to add. "It's just that... I don't want to lead **you** into a mistake that **I** can't seem to avoid. I'm still the oldest, and I'm responsible for you and the girls — I have to set a good example. You understand that, don't you?"

For a long moment, Edmund could not reply. When he finally did, it was in a low, lifeless tone.

"I understand. But by that argument, you'll always be responsible for us..."

"Y—Yes, I suppose I will," Peter conceded. "That's all right, though... I don't mind it, because you're **all** dear to me..."

_Some more than others,_ flashed though Edmund's mind unbidden, and he suddenly felt the need to lie down and face the wall of the tent once more. The tears that stung his eyes trickled noiselessly onto his pillow.

"Ed?" Peter asked, startled by his precipitous movement. Edmund did not reply, for he could not trust his voice, and Peter was left staring at the dark bundle under the blanket.

"Ed... please don't be sore," Peter said at long last. "I can't bear to think that... you're angry at me over this. I'm sorry that I can't control myself like I ought, but I really don't know what else to do about it. Please understand..."

Presented with such a heartfelt plea, Edmund knew he must answer or be saddled with regret, so he drew in a deep breath.

"I'm not sore at you," he enunciated slowly and carefully, though still turned away from his brother. "I just wish... things could be different."

"So do I," admitted Peter. Then, setting his hand on Edmund's shoulder once more to give it a gentle squeeze, he rose and slipped into his own bed. It was a long while after his lamp had been darkened that either of the brothers was able to fall asleep.

###

After another day of hunting, the royal party returned to Cair Paravel, and the Archenlanders made ready to return to their homeland. It was a bitter parting for Darian, who stole as many private moments with Per as could be managed under the circumstances; at least Edmund gave his squire permission to do whatever he wished, which made things somewhat easier on the lovers.

Edmund himself was withdrawn and often silent, choosing to spend his time alone rather than join in the festivities — a fact that was noted by more than a few of the Narnian court. Mrs. Dumplesugar hardly scolded him for his torn hose, instead conspiring with Felicity to tempt him out of his melancholy with his favourite dishes, but it was hard to know what **were** his favourite dishes; in any event, the cooking staff already had their work cut out for them.

So for some it was with a well-concealed sigh of relief that their guests left early on a day that promised good traveling weather. The four kings and queens of Narnia rode with their friends for a while through the Great Wood before bidding them farewell and turning back to the castle. Per had accompanied King Edmund, of course, though he spent most of his time riding beside Darian in wordless companionship; at their final parting, they merely clasped hands. Whatever they wished to say to the other had already been said. Edmund courteously pretended to not notice his friend's tears, as did most of Darian's fellow knights.

###

The denizens of Cair Paravel were busy for a few days afterward, cleaning out the castle and sorting through what had been moved to accommodate their visitors, but soon most things had settled back to their usual routine. The only thing that had changed was Peter and Edmund's private bedtime tea, which was now served in the sitting room for Susan, Lucy, Mr. Tumnus, and Per as well. Edmund acquiesced to the change without comment and Peter reminded himself that it was for the best, although he missed spending time with Edmund alone more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

It was during one such tea, when Sallowpad the Raven had joined them, that Edmund announced his desire to travel to the Western Wild. Per, of course, had been privy to his planning, but his royal siblings were caught by surprise.

"By yourself?" Susan had asked immediately, her brows arching in disapprobation.

"Don't be silly," Edmund scowled. "I'll be with Phillip, and Per will come, too. Phillip is already asking around to see which of his cousins would like to carry Per."

"Oh! Will you go to see the Beavers?" Lucy wanted to know.

"Of course. That's the main thing, you know — I want to introduce Per to our friends, not to mention show him the western side of the country. After all, I'm supposed to be the Duke of Lantern Waste, so my squire should jolly well be acquainted with it."

"I wonder, Your Majesty, if there might be room for one more in your expedition?" Mr. Tumnus asked politely.

"I was about to ask you if you would like to join us, Mr. Tumnus," Edmund explained. "I thought you might like to go back to your house and make sure that everything is in order. We can ask Phillip to find another Horse for you to ride as well."

Peter listened to the plans taking shape with a sinking feeling — not so much concerned for any dangers that might lurk along the way, for Narnia had become quite peaceful and safe since the days of the White Witch, but simply because he knew that he would miss his brother terribly during his absence.

The truth was, he had already begun to miss Edmund, who had honoured his decision for them to maintain a safe distance by retreating almost entirely from his (and their sisters') company. Of course they still spent much time together, such as during their lessons from the Centaurs and when giving audiences in the throne room; however, in combat training Edmund chose (ever so subtly) to be paired with Per, who was quickly growing into a good match for his knight. In his free time as well, he was most likely to be found in the company of his squire, with Phillip joining them on occasion. Peter fought hard to master his emotions when he realised that his eyes were following the younger boys, with particularly bilious feelings arising within him towards Per.

_It's good for Edmund to have a friend his own age,_ he argued with himself. _Per needs to learn about Narnia, and Ed is doing a good job teaching him — as he ought to be. With Darian gone, I don't suppose Per could be such a bad influence on Ed, so I shouldn't worry so much... _

Of course the problem was that Peter was not worried about Edmund as much as he was jealous of him. It did not take him long to admit it, but to rectify it was another matter.

_This is ridiculous... After all, __**I**__ was the one who told him we shouldn't be so close... But I never thought he would choose someone __**else**__ to be close to! By Jove, I hope he's not... not getting close to Per like... like __**that!**__ He wouldn't, would he? He only thought it was all right for __**us**__ because we were brothers... but then again, he knows that other boys do it, now... and I practically told him that it was worse for brothers than it was for two unrelated boys...! _

With such a growing sense of dread, it was not surprising that Peter began falling prey to his old malady of insomnia, despite Felicity's nightly oblations of chamomile tea and treats. What he did not know was that Edmund had also caught the affliction, lying awake at night to pine for Peter's arms just as Peter, in the next room, longed to hold his brother and kiss his tender brow. Part of the reason why the younger king was so often absent from the castle was to hide himself from scrutiny, for he saw the dark circles grow under his eyes every morning in his mirror, just as they had with Peter in the early stages of his infatuation with the fictitious Mermaid. Edmund was living in dread of being found out, since his symptoms were so similar to his brother's, and of being pressed by one or the other of his siblings as to who was the object of his affections.

As his reflection informed him of his deteriorating appearance, Edmund sought out more unconventional excuses for being absent from his family, and finally hit upon the trip to the Western Wild. He hoped that the physical activity would force his body into some rest at night, and that by leaving the almost ubiquitous presence of Peter the High King behind, he might gain some relief from his heartache as well.

_And maybe if I spend some time away, I'll be able to sort out my feelings,_ Edmund secretly hoped. _After all, who ever heard of someone falling in love with his own brother? Even if he __**is**__ the most handsome fellow around... Maybe if I'm not around him so much, and get some fresh air, and meet some new People_ (he meant Animals and Creatures, too, of course) _I'll be able to get over it. At the very least, the hornets won't bother me as much, since I won't be seeing him with Lucy all the time! _

This last thought was what ultimately tipped the balance for him; for, in spite of spending every spare minute away from those two of his siblings, Edmund could not help but notice how often they **were** together, and was tormented by the hornets each time — in fact, the pain seemed to have gotten even worse, now that he knew what caused it. And unfortunately, Peter had begun to take solace in his youngest sister's company as his only brother had grown so distant, creating more occasions than ever before where his true love would happen to come across them together. Had he known what sort of pain this afforded his beloved Edmund, he would have refrained from it completely (or as much as was possible without aggrieving his sister), but being oblivious to his brother's feelings, he unwittingly had created the very reason why Edmund wished to quit the castle altogether.

So with an equal admixture of anticipation and dread, Edmund prepared for his journey, while Peter attempted to brace himself for it.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long delay (again). I haven't given up on this, and never will! I owe Jack better than that, even if it takes me forever...


	44. Sentimental Journey

My Fair Brother

* * *

King Edmund and his five companions — Per, Mr. Tumnus, Phillip, Phillip's cousin Mitchell, and Mitchell's friend Phineas — set out rather later in the day than they had hoped, since Felicity and Mrs. Dumplesugar kept running back into the castle for one more useful or absolutely necessary item that they had to take, and some of those items required that they remove a saddlebag and pack it all over again. But at long last they were off, the boys and the Faun waving cheerfully back at the girls until they turned a bend in the road and could not be seen for the trees. Peter heaved a deep, grateful sigh when they were out of sight — the oft-delayed farewell with Edmund had been torturous.

It had been excruciating for Edmund as well, and more than once (in his heart) he had almost decided to call the whole thing off; but once they were on their way, with the Horses cantering at a brisk pace and the cool wind in their faces, he was glad to have undertaken this trip after all. It was still high summer in Narnia, when the Trees are fresh with verdant leaves growing thicker than down on a chick, and their journey was made even more delightful when the spirits of those Trees stepped out to wave to them with their leafy limbs and bow to their young king. The little woodland animals also chirped and chattered in excitement to see them go by, and several Birds burst into glorious song for the travelers' benefit.

The first day they rode through the Great Wood to the Fords of Beruna, where they would camp by the river in the same spot where the Narnian army had camped before their great battle with the White Witch's army. Edmund had started out the day talking with Per about the different types of Tree-Nymphs and Animals they were seeing, but as they drew closer to the Fords he began to tell him more about the Battle of Beruna, which Per (being, of course, a knight-in-training) was fascinated to hear.

"It was Peter's first time commanding an army," Edmund recalled, seeing in his mind's eye how small and yet very noble and courageous his brother had looked astride the Unicorn. "Sure, he'd bossed us three around a bit all our lives, but he'd never **commanded** anybody before. I don't know how he had the nerve to do it at all — having to be at the very head of the charge, you know. It must've been terrifying..."

For a moment Edmund fell silent, lost in his thoughts, but Per roused him out of his reverie by asking what position he had fought in, and so Edmund recounted his role in signaling the archers.

"It was more of a formality than anything else," he demurely added. "Peter had already told me what to do. I was just following orders."

"I believe — if I may be so bold — that your greatest feat was accomplished by **not** following orders," Phillip put in with an amused whinny, which was echoed by the other two Horses, who had also fought in the Battle. Edmund, turning red, had to relate how he had ignored Peter's order for him to escape with their sisters, instead choosing to attack the White Witch and break her wand.

"He even fought past three ogres to get to her," Phineas said, making Edmund turn redder still. "We were all amazed that someone so small (a-begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but you were no bigger than some Dwarfs at the time) could fight so ferociously!"

Edmund had very much wanted to tell Per about it himself, but had refrained for fear it would sound like bragging; and although a part of him was glad that Phineas had told his squire on his behalf, another part of him squirmed in embarrassment.

"That was the turning point of the Battle, Master Per," Mitchell explained. "We had already lost so many because nobody else had the sense to break her wand, but once King Edmund removed **that** threat, we had a fighting chance. And then Aslan came with the rest of our fellows, freed from the Witch's castle."

At this point, Edmund asked Mr. Tumnus to tell the story again (mostly for Per's benefit, but also since the Horses had not all heard it for themselves) of how Aslan had un-stoned all the creatures in the Witch's castle and how they had rode forth to join the Battle.

"I was just so glad to be free and able to do my part, however small," Mr. Tumnus said. "I'd been a traitor, you know — I was in the service of the White Witch for many years — but it was such a relief to be fighting on the **right** side again!"

"But Mr. Tumnus," Per asked, not knowing what awful memories he would be dredging up, "if you were serving the Witch, why did she turn you into stone?"

There was an uncomfortable pause, for the Faun and three Horses did not want to say anything that would remind Edmund of the past, but it was inevitable now that Per had voiced his question. Edmund swallowed and saved them the trouble by answering it himself.

"It's because he didn't turn Lucy over to the Witch like he was supposed to. He would have gotten away with it, too, if I hadn't wandered into Narnia and met the White Witch, and told her that my sister had already met a Faun. That was the second time that Lucy had come to Narnia... I hadn't believed her story about meeting him at all (none of us had, really) and I'd followed her into the wardrobe out of spite, just to tease her about her imaginary world. And then, even though I found myself here in a totally strange world, just like she'd said, I didn't have the wits to keep my mouth shut. As if that weren't bad enough, I ate the enchanted food and drink the Witch offered me, and even promised to bring Peter and the girls to her castle! All because she said she would make me king, and make the others my servants. I was sore at Peter for scolding me about teasing Lucy — I was really rotten to her, so it was no more than I deserved — but I was such a selfish beast that I actually wanted to pay Peter out."

Per's jaw dropped in surprise, for he could not imagine that there had ever been a time when the two brothers were on less-than-amiable terms.

"The third time we came to Narnia (or rather, the third time for Lucy) all four of us made it in together," Edmund continued. "I tried to trick the others into going to the Witch's castle, but when that didn't work, I slipped away from the Beavers' house alone to go to the Witch, and told her everything that I'd heard the Beavers saying — their plans to take us to meet Aslan, and where he was gathering his forces... everything. All because I wanted another piece of Turkish Delight!"

"You mustn't be so hard on yourself, King Edmund," Mr. Tumnus put in gently. "You had no way of knowing that her food was enchanted, and once you had eaten it, you were under its spell. Alas! I had no such excuse. I knew she was evil, and chose to do her bidding, anyhow."

"As did many others, my dear fellow," said Phineus (who was carrying the Faun). "Those were dark days, when even the stoutest hearts quailed before her wand in fear. You were brave enough to defy her commands and protect the Lady Lucy — which is more than some would have done. Do not dwell on your mistakes, especially since you overcame them when it was hardest and most necessary."

"And you, King Edmund," Phillip spoke up, "you suffered cruelly at the Witch's hands, and nearly had your throat slit by her. I know, for I found you in that wood, exhausted, half-starved, and tied to the tree. And yet you faced her on the battlefield and did what none else had dared to do — almost at the cost of your life. You have proven that you are a true Champion and King of Narnia; Aslan would not have crowned you if it were not so."

There was hearty agreement at this, which assuaged Edmund's regrets somewhat.

"King Peter was a sight to behold on the battlefield as well," Mitchell said, hoping to turn the subject to happier things. "He was scarce but a colt himself, but fought against Creatures twice his size with the heart of a Lion!"

The conversation moved on to the great celebration after their victory and the coronation at Cair Paravel, but Edmund's thoughts lingered for a while on Peter, and how his brother had hugged him so tightly — so _wonderfully_ tightly — after Lucy's cordial had revived him. He yearned to be held that way again, even if only as a beloved brother, but wondered if his true wish — to be ravished by Peter as Per had been by Darian — would ever be granted.

_Is it really so wrong?_ he mused, as he had so often before. _I know Peter and King Lune think it's wrong, and Peter says Father would, too, but... what would Aslan say? Would he condemn it and forbid it, too?_

There was no way to know the answer, of course, since Aslan was not a tame lion, much less someone you could send for when you wished to see them. In fact, Edmund realised, he didn't even know how one would go about looking for Aslan.

_Perhaps we aren't meant to... Maybe we just have to do the best we can without him, and hope for the best. But I do wish he would come by sometime so I could ask him... _

It occurred to him, with a start, that Aslan might visit Cair Paravel while he and his companions were still in the Western Wood, in which case he would have missed an opportunity to ask the great Lion directly; however, they were already well on their way and (after all the fuss that their departure had caused) he could not in good conscience call off the journey now. Resigning himself to whatever might happen in his absence, Edmund tried to imagine what Aslan **might** say in response to his question. The answers that seemed most plausible did not please him, and those that he most hoped for seemed least likely.

Thankfully, he found that the more he thought about Aslan — remembering the kindness in his eyes and the light dancing off of his golden mane — the less he was thinking about Peter and aching for what he could not have, which was a welcome respite in and of itself. It also put him in a mind to visit the Stone Table, which he had not seen since it had been broken.

"My dear friends, I must beg your indulgence," he began during a lull in the conversation. "It occurs to me that I haven't yet seen the Stone Table where Aslan paid the price of my guilt — at least, not since the day before the Battle of Beruna. It would be a good thing for Per to see as well, I think, and not just because it's an important landmark. Next to meeting Aslan in person, I think it's the closest thing (or place) where one could get a sense of who Aslan is. Would you all be amenable to turning aside from our planned course to visit it for a while? Although I realize, it will add nearly a day to our travels..."

The Horses agreed to it at once, insisting that it would take far less time than he had estimated to divert to the site (since they were riding, not marching as Edmund had been the last time he had traveled from the Stone Table to Beruna), and Mr. Tumnus was as curious as Per to see the cracked Table, so they decided to journey south the next morning to the hill where it sat, before rejoining the Great River further west to follow it up to Beaversdam.

###

Lucy had wanted to tell Edmund what Aslan had done — what terrible mockings and beatings the great Lion had endured at the hands of the Witch's hordes, and how he had been slain on her brother's behalf — but Susan could not bear to see Edmund crushed by the weight of that knowledge, and so the sisters had not told the whole story to anyone, not even Peter. However, one day not long after their coronation, Edmund himself had brought up the topic.

"I say, Su — why didn't you at least let us know you were leaving camp with Aslan that night?" he began, after a lengthy discussion about the (then-recent) Battle of Beruna, and how close a shave it had been; in fact, how very nearly it had been a disaster, if Aslan had not come back with reinforcements. "Peter and I had quite a turn when we got up in the morning and found you and Lucy gone, too!"

"We didn't want to wake you, since we knew you would be fighting a battle in the morning. You needed your sleep," Susan fibbed.

"Susan!" Lucy said in a hushed yet reproachful tone. When both Peter and Edmund looked at them inquiringly, the girls blushed. Suspecting that his sisters were hiding something dreadful, Edmund insisted on being told everything, which Lucy (rather unwillingly, despite having thought that he ought to be told, earlier) then hesitantly began to relate. The boys listened in stunned silence until Lucy was finished.

"It should have been me," Edmund stated, his face pale. "**I** ought to have been the one killed..."

"No, Edmund! Aslan knew what he was doing," Susan spoke up. "If you'd been killed by the Witch, you would have **stayed** dead! But because Aslan willingly died in your place, and had committed no treachery himself, the Deep Magic was overruled by the even Deeper Magic and Death couldn't keep Aslan dead anymore. It was the only way it would have worked!"

"Su's right, Ed," Peter said quietly. He had risen to stand by the window (they were in the Den) and remained staring out at the ocean. "But if anyone were to have taken your place, it should have been me. I goaded you to betray us; I should have died in your stead. Then Aslan could have led the troops, far better than I..."

"No, Peter!" Lucy gasped. "What if... What if **you'd** stayed dead, too? Because you were partly responsible?" She ran up to him and threw her arms about his waist. "If you'd died, it would've been as bad as Edmund dying! We **all** would have been miserable..."

"I really do think," Susan said, joining them by the window to place a hand on Peter's shoulder, "that it **had** to be Aslan himself. Only he could have managed it. And in a way... he did it for **all** of us. So that we could all be here, together..."

She turned back to look at Edmund, who had been contemplating his shoes for a while.

"Edmund... it wasn't just for your sake that he did it — it was for ours as well, because we love you..."

Catching her gaze, he stood up and walked over to his siblings.

"In that case... I owe you all my life, too," he said soberly.

"Oh, Ed! Don't be silly," Lucy said, grabbing him in her embrace as well. "Of **course** we love you! You're our **brother**."

Peter had smiled at that and pulled Edmund even closer into their circle.

"She's right you know... Whether you like it or not, you'll always be our brother!"

###

Edmund could not stop the tears from blurring his view of the night sky as he remembered that momentous day, while lying beside their campfire on the shore of the Great River. The River Rush was a quieter babble in the distance, a few paces to the east, adding its voice to the nearer, louder song of the Great River as it passed over the stones of the ford. He stifled a sob when he thought of the freckles on Peter's chin that he had likened to stars, since he could see Jeneth, the charioteer star that rode through the heavens just ahead of the Moon.

Per sensed his knight's restlessness and — being quite familiar with the cause of his melancholy, since he was suffering in much the same way himself — made free to move his rolled-up cloak (his pillow) and blanket right beside the young monarch. Without a word he placed one arm on Edmund's shoulder, and soon found his hand gripped by Edmund's in gratitude. They slept, huddled against each other for comfort, too tired for dreams that night.


	45. The Stone Table

My Fair Brother

* * *

The sun was bright and hot as they rode to the Stone Table the next day, prodding the Horses to choose paths that ran under the shade of the trees as often as possible. Per was quite sore from the previous day's riding, as was Edmund, but neither wished to let on to the other that his thighs were aching. Mercifully, it was not a long ride to their destination, but as they neared the hill of the Stone Table, the party grew somber. Edmund was reflecting on the events that had led up to Aslan's death, as well as how his sisters had described the torture and humiliation the great Lion had endured.

_It was on __**my**__ behalf — on __**my**__ account_, he thought, biting his lip. He could remember very clearly the sound of the Witch sharpening her knife that night, preparing to slit his throat. If the rescue party had arrived a minute later, he would have been dead. Even after he had been taken to Aslan's camp, the Witch had come to demand his life — which, as the Pevensies had discovered to their horror, was rightfully hers, since Edmund had betrayed his siblings, the good Narnians, and Aslan himself to become a traitor. She had only relinquished her claim on his blood when Aslan had offered to die in his stead.

Edmund was glad that he had not known then what a terrible bargain the great Lion had struck with the Witch — he would have felt wretched, and might have botched the one task that Peter had entrusted to him for the battle the next day. At the thought of his beloved brother, he felt a strong twinge in his breast, but right now his heart was so full of pain at what his foolishness had cost Aslan that his own sorrow seemed a trivial thing by comparison.

The Great Wood thinned out as they started climbing a rise covered in soft turf. The trees that towered over them were stately trees such as elms and oaks, with a few pines in between, standing straight and tall like columns in a cathedral. Then they came out into the open where the slope grew steeper, and after a few minutes more they arrived at the top of a hill which gave them a view (to their left and east) of the Sea. If they had stopped to look closely, they might have caught a glimpse of Cair Paravel further north along the shore, but their attention was fixed upon the Stone Table before them on the crest of the hill. Without a word, the two boys and the Faun slipped off of the Horses' backs to advance on foot.

As they drew near enough to make out the strange writing carved into the broken Table, Edmund felt a shiver run through him despite the heat of the midday sun. He knew that the Witch's hold over him had been broken, much like the Table itself had been cracked asunder when the Deep Magic had been overruled by the even Deeper Magic, releasing Aslan from Death; still, he could not help shuddering at how very nearly he had been slain upon the Stone Table himself, his throat slit open as he was left to bleed, unable to scream or even beg for mercy, until his life had ebbed completely.

Lost in such morbid thoughts, he did not notice the slight rustling of the grass around the base of the Table. He approached it, halted, and was reaching out to trace the mysterious markings upon its surface when a shrill voice rang out from somewhere below.

"Halt! Who goes there? Do not dare touch the Stone Table unworthily, unless you may answer for your deeds by your sword!"

Edmund's hand had flown to his hilt in a flash, which was why the Voice had issued its last challenge. Edmund finally spotted the owner of the Voice, standing barely taller than the clumps of grass growing about the Table, and gaped for a moment.

"You're a... a Mouse," he said in some surprise. He had never seen one before — at least, not a _Talking_ Mouse.

"Melchisedeek, chief of my people," the Mouse piped in response. "And whether you are an overgrown Dwarf or a stunted Tree Spirit, be forewarned that my sword is as sharp as any in Narnia and twice as quick if you would dishonour the great Stone Table, upon which Aslan destroyed the power of the evil White Witch once and for all!"

"My good Master Melchisedeek," Mr. Tumnus said with some haste, "perhaps you do not recognize my companions to be two Sons of Adam — they have been rare enough in this land during the accursed winter of the Witch, so it is no wonder — but of your courtesy mind the sauciness of your address, for this personage is none other than King Edmund, brother to the High King Peter himself."

At that the Mouse started, took a step or two back (placing him entirely under the shadow of the Table), and bowed deeply to his liege lord.

"My humblest apologies, Your Majesty," Melchisedeek said in an abashed tone. "The good Faun is correct in that we have not seen any Sons of Adam in this part of Narnia, and so I mistook Your Highness for some vagrant creature with ill intentions towards this relic of Aslan's return. For — if it please Your Majesty — I and my people have betook upon ourselves the duty and honour of guarding it against any who would attempt to repair it in the hopes of reinstating even a portion of the Witch's former authority, as well as from those who would destroy it altogether and thereby erase a valuable, visible reminder of Aslan's supremacy over all such usurpers."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my dear Mouse," Edmund said sincerely, "and it gives me great comfort to know that such valiant Creatures as yourself are keeping watch over the Stone Table. It occurs to me now that we ought to have commissioned some noble Narnians for this very task, but I can think of none more worthy of it than those who would elect to do so of their own volition and generosity — for which I thank you most heartily, as would my esteemed brother, were he here."

The Mouse was almost at a loss for words at this gracious speech from King Edmund, and begged that the King and his party spend their repast (for it was almost the noon hour) in the company of his people. Several other Mice had appeared as they were speaking — the twelve honour guards that Melchisedeek had appointed out of the fiercest of his warriors — and the travelers realised that if any interloper approached the Table with ill intent, he would be startled by the presence of so many invisible guardians popping out of the tall grasses or, if his actions warranted it, have his feet skewered by as many tiny but razor-sharp swords.

Mr. Tumnus and Melchisedeek made the formal introductions on either side, and while Edmund tried in vain to remember all of the names of the Mice (he despaired of ever distinguishing them, for they were each as bright-eyed and sleek-furred as any other), Per stared at the Creatures with undisguised joy on his face. They stood barely as tall as his knees but were so solemn, dignified, and grown-up that he wished he were as small as they so he could be more at ease in their midst. The Horses bent their long faces down to the ground to greet the smaller Beasts eye-to-eye, and Edmund had to stifle a laugh when he noticed that the Mice were scarcely larger than the Horses' heads.

After several of the Mice had scurried off to procure what delicacies they had at their disposal with which to entertain the King and his party, Edmund took a slow walk around the Stone Table, studying the crack which had split it into two pieces as well as the dark stains upon its surface which even years of exposure to the rains had not availed to cleanse. Per followed in his wake, also observing the marks on the Table, wondering what his Knight was thinking.

"These runes... I can't read them, but I remember the Witch saying that they decreed that all traitors — like me — were hers to kill," Edmund finally spoke, breaking the silence. "The same Law was carved on the fire-stones on the Secret Hill (the Centaurs think it's in Aslan's Country) as well as on the scepter of the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. I don't know if the inscription still remains in those other places, but apparently the Deep Magic stated that if the White Witch were ever cheated out of her rightful prey, all Narnia would be destroyed by fire and water. She had been in Narnia since the dawn of Time and, as Mr. Beaver put it, was the Emperor's hangman."

The Horses, Mice, Mr. Tumnus, and Per all listened with rapt attention, although most of them had heard the story (or at least parts of it) before, since the young king's words carried the weight of not only his own life but also the life, and death, of Aslan himself.

"I remember that night, before I was rescued, she wanted to kill me on this Stone Table. She said it was where it had always been done (the execution of traitors, I mean) and was the proper place for it," Edmund continued. "After the way I had told her everything I knew about Aslan's plans — not to mention given you away, Mr. Tumnus, when you had been so kind to my sister, even at the risk of being found out by the Witch — it would have been no more than I deserved to have my throat slit upon this Stone."

The Mice's ears twitched and stood upright, but otherwise the only movement was the soft breeze bending the stalks of the grass.

"I had been a selfish, poisonous little beast... I mean like the dumb brutes that live back in my own world, of course, although even they probably behave better towards their own kind than that. Aslan knew exactly what I had done... how rotten I'd been towards Lucy about her 'imaginary world,' and then, when I'd found out that she hadn't been lying about it, how I'd turned around and lied to Peter and Susan because I didn't want to admit that I'd been wrong. I even tried to trick them into going to the Witch's house when we all got here together... I told myself that she wasn't as bad as everyone said she was, and for a while I managed to half-believe it, too; but when Aslan asked me if I'd **really** believed it, I knew he was right — I had known all along, in my heart of hearts, that she was wicked and would do terrible things to Peter and the others. And yet I **wanted** her to be cruel to Peter because I was sore about his scolding me, when he'd been perfectly right to do so. I didn't even care what she did to my sisters... all I cared about was myself. I wanted to be a king so I could do whatever I pleased."

Mr. Tumnus moved as though to speak, but Edmund waved his hand and silenced him.

"You may excuse my actions as having been caused by her enchanted food — faugh! I'll never eat Turkish Delight again! — but that's a kindness I don't deserve. It might have made me more stubborn, more bent on having my own way, but the truth is, I had that sort of selfishness growing inside of me already. I see that now... If I hadn't come to Narnia and been forced to learn my lesson, I would have grown up to be just like the White Witch — not a despot of a whole country, but a bully and a tyrant over anyone I could control. In a way, it was good that I'd met the White Witch — she gave me a taste of my own medicine, so to speak."

"You **did** suffer cruelly at her hands, Your Majesty," Phillip interjected with a quiet whinny. "You mustn't be so hard on yourself..."

Edmund shook his head. "No... I'm being no harder than I deserve. After you and the others had rescued me, I was relieved to be safe and fed and warm again, of course, but I still hadn't learned my lesson — not really. I'd been humbled by finding out the hard way how wrong my judgment had been, but it was still hard to swallow having to **admit** that I'd been wrong. In the battle, I might have helped things by breaking the Witch's wand, but even that was something I'd done (at least in part) to prove to Peter that I was the better man... that I would be a better king — which is all rot, of course. It took nearly getting killed a **second** time to teach me to do as I'm told! Like the Centaurs say, 'One who cannot obey the orders of his betters will never be entrusted to command.' I'm still struggling with it, mind you, but at least I know where I'd gone wrong before..."

Reaching out to the Stone Table, Edmund touched it for the first time, running a finger along its cool edge. "I didn't realise exactly how much I owed Aslan until my sisters told me about... about how the Witch had killed him, here on this Table. In **my place**. You may think I'd suffered much at her hands, Phillip, but it was **nothing** compared to what Aslan had to endure... when he had done nothing to deserve such treatment, either. He knew that it was the only way to break the power of the Deep Magic with the even Deeper Magic — from **before** the dawn of Time, before the Witch had come to Narnia — but still, it must have been horrible... And he did it for **me**. The traitor. The wretched liar and selfish brute who was ready to hand over his own brother and sisters, and anybody else he could, for the sake of getting what he wanted. It hardly matters whether it was for some enchanted sweets or to become king of Narnia under the White Witch (not that she would've kept her promise, anyhow!) — it was a dastardly thing to do in any case. I was the worst of Creatures, and yet Aslan was willing to die in my stead. I'd done nothing to deserve his kindness. If he had simply allowed me to live, and kept me chained up in a dungeon somewhere, I still would have owed him my life. To have him make me a king of Narnia is... is so much more than I ever had a right to dream of..."

Overwhelmed anew by the greatness of Aslan's magnanimity, Edmund paused until he had regained control of his emotions. Swallowing hard, he turned to his friends.

"I stand before you as king, not because of noble blood, much less noble deeds, but because Aslan gave me a second chance to live and to do what is **right** this time. And so I pledge to you, along with all the other good Creatures of Narnia, to strive to be the best king that I can be, as a meager way of repaying a debt that can never be repaid. I ask you to hold me to my oath and correct me should I turn aside or even be in danger of doing so, on your honour and for the sake of Aslan, who rules graciously over us all."

"Aye, Your Majesty, we will," the Faun and the Horses replied solemnly. Per was rather tongue-tied, being unused to such weighty matters, but he gazed back into his Knight's eyes with the promise of any and all aid that he might proffer. The Mice were awestruck as well, but their furry faces shone with pride and delight in their newly-acquainted monarch. It was almost as momentous an occasion for Edmund as his coronation had been, and he was relieved to have made his little speech, for it had sorted out his own thoughts as well.

The Mice who had been sent to fetch refreshments returned just then, and so the group descended from the crest of the hill to a spot under the shade of the trees, sitting in a circle with the contingent of Mice while the Horses stood a few paces away, content to munch on the sweet grass. The Creatures had generously opened up their larders of cheese, nuts, and bread (though the buns were so small as to fit into Edmund and Per's mouths in one bite) and had called upon their fellows to come see the young king, so it was a very large and merry assembly that gathered there where, only a few short years ago, Aslan's army had pitched their tents in preparation for the great battle.

* * *

A/N: In Frances Hodgson Burnett's book "A Little Princess," Sarah tames a mouse in the attic and calls him "Melchisedec." Also, in the book of Genesis in the Bible, "Melchisedek" is the name of a priest-king.


	46. Of Mice and Men and Monarchs

My Fair Brother

* * *

You've probably no notion of how noisy dining with a group of Talking Mice can be, what with all of them asking at once in their shrill little voices to pass the salt or the butter or what-not; and in addition to the entire tribe of Mice, there were the other Creatures who lived in the area — Rabbits and Squirrels and Deer as well as Tree Spirits and Water Nymphs — who had heard or seen the royal party settling down for lunch and had eagerly brought forth offerings from their own provisions with which to honour their young king. By the time they had all congregated, it was quite a crowd that sat down in the lush turf just under the shade of the forest.

Edmund had been pondering something as he munched on the nuts and berries that the Squirrels had generously provided, and in a relative lull in the conversation he managed to mention it to Mr. Tumnus.

"I say, I thought I'd met all of the different folk in Narnia," he said in an undertone, "but why haven't I ever met any Talking Mice before?"

"To be honest, Your Majesty, even I — born and bred a Narnian — didn't know that there **were** any Talking Mice. Although I've seen a good number of the ordinary sort," the Faun confessed.

Melchisedeek, having overheard their mumbled conversation (for of course he had wonderfully large, velvety ears) piped up in response.

"If it please Your Majesty, it is my understanding that my people have only recently been bestowed the gift of Speech," he said, standing up to give a little bow and twirling two of his whiskers with a dainty paw. "As our woodland neighbors have informed us, we had long been considered the least of Beasts, to be shooed and chased with impunity (even for sport) until the defeat of the White Witch by Aslan. Previous to that day, we were as insensible as any other dumb animal; but upon that morning we awoke to the sound of a great roar which shook the foundations of the earth and cast all who heard it into a mortal dread, and when we finally dared to draw breath and look around about us, we straightway began speaking in the manner of true Narnians — that is, in the tongues of Men, even as you hear us now. It was as though our former lives had been a dream, and we stood to greet one another as new-born children, much to the amazement of the other good Creatures of the forest. Not long after, we learned that the rule of the wicked Witch had been broken by the selfsame magic of Aslan as had broken yonder Stone Table; and, since our awakening as Talking Beasts had coincided with that blessed event, we have assumed these three happy years that the power of the Even Deeper Magic from Before the Dawn of Time was so great as to have exceeded its purpose and over-spilled across our small colony (for in our previous size we had lived in this field surrounding the Table, nearer to it than any other living Creatures), giving us the speech and stature commensurate to other Talking Beasts. It is owing to this inestimable gift from Aslan that we have betook upon ourselves the guarding of the Table, as those late-born into Narnian citizenship and, by the grace of Aslan, honoured to wield our swords in even the smallest way to serve Him."

"I see it now," Edmund replied, comprehension dawning in his mind. "Since you were still ordinary mice at the time, of course you wouldn't remember... but it is my great pleasure to inform you that it was not by mere chance or coincidence that your people were made Talking Mice." All other conversations stopped as those assembled looked at their monarch in surprise, the Mice with anticipation. "My sisters — Queen Susan and Queen Lucy — followed Aslan to the Table that night and saw everything that befell him. Well, almost all... they couldn't bear to watch when he was actually killed... But once the White Witch and her minions had left to prepare for battle, the girls drew near and kept vigil over his body until the next morning. They've told me that as they wept, they saw some tiny things crawling over the great Lion — little field mice — and tried at first to chase them away. But then they noticed that the mice were only trying to release Aslan from the cords that bound him, gnawing through the ropes until all of them could be pulled off to leave him free." Edmund looked at each of the Mice in turn as they absorbed what he had told them, their noses and whiskers quivering. "I think it's safe to say that Aslan knew what you had done for him, and made you Talking Mice as a reward. In fact I'm quite sure of it. It's just the sort of thing he would do."

The Mice were pleased beyond words, rightfully proud of their accomplishment (although Melchisedeek was quick to point out that the Witch's ropes could hardly have contained Aslan when he had broken the chains of Death itself), and their neighbors were almost equally pleased to learn of it as well. After a few whispered words with Mr. Tumnus and Per, Edmund returned his attention to the Chief Mouse.

"Of your courtesy, Melchisedeek, lend me your sword," he said, rising to stand in the sunlit field. "And order your twelve warriors — the honour guard of the Stone Table — to assemble themselves behind you."

The Creatures all hushed their chattering again, sensing that King Edmund was about to do something important, even though most (especially the younger Beasts) were unsure what it might be. Taking Melchisedeek's tiny sword, Edmund pointed it towards the Stone Table that was visible at the rise of the hill.

"Friends and fellow Narnians: as you well know, I was a traitor to Narnia almost from the moment I first stepped foot in it, and as such my life was forfeit; I should have been slain upon that Stone Table as the White Witch's rightful prey." Even the Birds in the Trees paused their whistling songs at this, plunging the clearing and the forest into an unnatural calm. "But by the grace of Aslan — and for no other reason than his kindness — he was slain in my stead. He knew of the Deeper Magic, it's true, but that makes his sacrifice no less costly." Edmund took a bracing breath and lowered the sword. "That day on the field of battle, Aslan himself knighted me into the Noble Order of the Table — I, the unworthy, the traitor, and the least deserving of his favour. Not only that, but he also made me a king over Creatures far nobler and braver than I, including these Mice you see before you. It is my duty, then, as well as my greatest honour and privilege" — here he knelt on one knee on the grass — "to bestow the same order of knighthood upon these valiant Mice. Approach, my good Melchisedeek, if you would swear to serve Aslan with your whole heart, until your every last tooth and nail and breath are spent!"

Melchisedeek did approach with a good will and swore his fealty to Aslan, the High King, and King Edmund himself; but before the good Mouse could kneel (as was proper) Edmund gently placed the blade across his shoulders and dubbed him Sir Melchisedeek of the Noble Order of the Table, charged to be Chief of the Royal Guard of the Stone Table. The other twelve Mice he also knighted and placed under the command of Melchisedeek (or "Sir Mel" as he was often called thereafter). The tiny Creatures' eyes flashed with fierce joy upon their monarch's every pronouncement, and when all had been knighted, the rest of the Mice and the other Narnians present broke out into a spontaneous cheer.

"Long live Aslan! Long live King Peter! Long live King Edmund!" they shouted, making the open spaces between the Trees ring with their voices.

###

It was to the sound of those same voices crying out their farewells that the royal party mounted again and resumed their journey north and west to the Great River. Since they had spent so much time at the Table, they rode rather hard and fast before halting for the night, finding a pleasant dell near the River where the Horses would have plenty of grass to eat. The sun was nearing the end of its daily journey, so they had little light with which to set up camp, but luckily they did not need to fuss much. Per lit some kindling with a tinder-box in no time, and when Edmund and Mr. Tumnus were gathering some dead branches from the woods, several Dryads appeared and (once they knew who Edmund was) gladly brought armloads of wood that their fellows had shed.

News spread through the forest quickly, as they had already found out that day, and soon there were several Dwarfs pressing mugs of cold beer into their hands and offering to build them a proper shelter. (Mr. Tumnus seemed to enjoy the beer immensely, but it made the boys sneeze.) As politely as he knew how, Edmund prevented the Dwarfs from constructing anything more than a small roof made of woven boughs. Some Owls flew down in the midst of the commotion, promising to keep watch over them while they slept, and a Bear and his wife (Mr. and Mrs. Bruin) lumbered into the dell with great pawfuls of ripe berries. Then several Satyrs showed up and began piping, causing Edmund to give up all hope of turning in early for the night. Both he and Per were sore from all their riding and too tired to hide it, but they did appreciate the hot cauldron of stew that the Dwarfs had set up over their cooking-fire, and tucked in with relish.

"King Edmund! King Edmund!" came some excited voices over the Satyrs' singing, and several small forms approached overhead, jumping from branch to branch among the Trees. When they scampered down to stand at his heels, Edmund saw that they were Squirrels.

"King Edmund! What a pleasure!" said one of them, who looked to be the oldest.

"The pleasure is entirely mine," Edmund replied, blushing at how they all gazed upon him adoringly.

"We remember, we remember," two of the smaller ones spoke up at once. "That awful Witch tried to turn us into stone," one said, and the other corrected, "She **did** turn us into stone, but we're all right now — Aslan un-stoned us!"

"Oh!" Edmund cried, realising who they were. "You're the ones we met... So you really **are** all right now!"

"Yes, yes!" they laughed, then ran around him in dizzying circles to prove how all right they were.

"We remember, King Edmund — you tried to stop the Witch from casting her spell," came the more subdued voice of their mother. "She could have just as easily turned **you** into stone, too, but you tried to save us. We shall never forget it, Your Majesty."

The two older Squirrels bowed deeply, their tails forming identical exclamation points in the air, as Edmund felt his face turn red-hot at the memory.

"Yes, well... fat lot of good it did," he mumbled. "But I'm glad you weren't left to be stone statues forever! Wasn't there a Fox with you, and some Satyrs? Are they all right, too?"

"There were indeed, Your Majesty. The Fox (Mr. Fields was his name) has since departed for Aslan's Country, but the Satyrs who were with us then — Aemenus and Flauvius — should be coming close behind us. We sent them word the moment we heard that you were here."

The Satyrs did indeed come trotting up not long after, bearing bottles of their best wine, which the boys had to mix with the cool river-water before they could drink it without spluttering. Mr. Tumnus joined the Satyrs in their dance while everybody else clapped or sang, and Per was overjoyed when the youngest of the Squirrels — a baby born earlier that spring — curled up and fell asleep in his arms.

After so much riding, and eating, and strong wine (even though they'd diluted it), Edmund could not stay awake for long, and when his head finally slipped off of his hand where it had been resting, the kind Creatures saw immediately that their monarch needed to rest and began bowing and taking their leave. The little shelter that the Dwarfs had built kept him from seeing the stars above, which was just as well, since they would only have reminded him of Peter; and, lying back-to-back with his squire (who had relinquished the tiny Squirrel to its mother in resignation, having been yawning his own head off), he fell asleep much more comfortably and in much better spirits than the night before.

###

They arrived at Beaversdam the next morning, about an hour before high noon, which meant that they were just in time to help Mr. Beaver catch some fish for their dinner. Mrs. Beaver was thrilled to know that Edmund had made the trip especially to see them, and after the requisite introductions, she claimed Per to help her in her tiny kitchen.

"Why, if these aren't the britches I made for King Peter more than two years ago!" she exclaimed, noticing what the boy was wearing when he accidentally spilt some water on it. "My dear child, what a mercy Father Christmas gave me that new sewing machine! I have some good, strong cloth, too, so I'll have a new pair made up for you before you can say 'Jack Robinson.' But first things first: pass me that fork, dearie, and I'll see if the potatoes are done."

Edmund had half expected them to crowd into the Beavers' little house to eat, leaving the Horses outside (for you could hardly get one of them in, let alone all three), but since Mr. Otter and his family had been invited as well as the Weasels (who had five children still at home), Mr. Beaver used his hatchet to split several fallen trees lengthwise to make a crude sort of table, around which they sat cross-legged like a picnic. And it was the very nicest sort of picnic, with freshly fried fish and hot potatoes and bread (Mrs. Weasel had brought several baskets of buns) and butter; with beer for the grown-ups to drink and cold, creamy milk for the children. The Robin — the very same Robin as had guided the Pevensie children when they had all first come to Narnia — had seen their party coming and flown ahead to tell the Beavers, which was why they had been able to alert their neighbors as well. He and his wife warbled their greetings to the travelers but had to leave to attend to their business: their chicks were not quite old enough to leave the nest yet, which meant that both of them were busy collecting worms and caterpillars and other treats (although you might think them rather nasty) to feed their growing brood.

Mrs. Beaver lost no time in putting her sewing machine to good use. While Mr. Beaver chatted with Edmund and Mr. Tumnus, she was measuring Per for new trousers and shirts, even though she had to stand on tiptoes on a stool to do so. She waved off the boy's protests with a wrinkled paw while marking off her tape measure with one of the pins she was holding between her lips.

"Nonsense, my dear," she finally said when her mouth was free of pins. "I enjoy sewing, and you obviously need some sturdy clothes of your own. Eh! King Peter has been none too gentle with his, although I suppose it can't be helped when you're the High King and must always be running off to fight Giants and Hags and such. And he's a Boy, which is almost as bad as a Man — beggin' your pardon, King Edmund, but I only meant for tearing up one's clothes. I wouldn't know **what** to do if Mr. Beaver had to wear clothes, too, but thankfully he only needs his tool belt, and that's mended easily enough."

Once she was done with her measuring, Per was free to romp about with the Weasel children, who were delighted with their new playmate. The little ones wanted to play in the water, though, and Per wondered if that might not be too undignified for a royal squire. He approached Edmund hesitantly (for the young king was in the middle of a discussion with Mr. Otter and Mr. Weasel about a possible Harpy in the Western Wild) to ask, and was waiting for an opportune moment.

"Here, my dear — give me your shirt," Mrs. Beaver said without preamble, coming up to the startled boy with her paw outstretched. "If you're going to splash about in the river, you might as well keep it dry, and I can take the pattern off of it."

"You'd best do as she says," Edmund laughed. "I'll join you in a moment."

Having his knight's permission, Per happily gave his shirt to Mrs. Beaver and joined the Weasel children in the still waters of the dam.

* * *

A/N: Really, honestly, I haven't given up on this! And there WILL be a happy ending, I promise!


	47. Trouble in the West

My Fair Brother

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Cair Paravel, Peter was having a hard time concentrating on anything. He could not sleep well at night, worried as he was over Edmund (and, if he were to be completely honest, more than a little jealous that Per was with his brother on this trip and not himself), so he became less alert and more listless during the day. The Centaurs helping him in his studies were gravely patient; Susan took to sitting near him when they were discussing affairs of state, the better to nudge him when his attention wandered; and even Lucy — who herself was missing Mr. Tumnus as well as Edmund — noticed his melancholy and strove to dispel it by perching on his knee at every opportunity, prattling merrily about whatever news she had heard that day. Mrs. Hoppinger and Felicity did their best to tempt his appetite with dishes made from the fruits of the season, while Mrs. Dumplesugar coddled and fussed over him like a young kit of her own.

The High King was not insensible to their efforts, but he could not quell all of his sighs nor mask the sluggishness of his mind to any great degree. As hard as it had been to watch his brother from afar, yearning to hold him as a lover yet denying himself that pleasure, it was harder to not catch sight of Edmund at all. Peter was left to wonder what the two younger boys might be doing and talking about on their long journey; at times his fevered mind imagined that they might have begun to engage in the very acts of intimacy which Edmund had been so desirous of pursuing with Peter, which Peter himself had forbidden. Now he doubted the wisdom of having done so, for, in the absence of a male relation in whom to confide, he feared that Edmund would turn to his squire for advice and (what made Peter truly anxious) affection. And after seeing how intently Darian had pursued Per, Peter was certain that the boy was quite familiar with the ways of men as it related to pederasty — perhaps even more knowledgeable than Peter, whose exposure to such behavior had been purely accidental. It was not a notion conducive to restful slumber. And so Peter struggled through each day as best he could, while his sisters and subjects grew increasingly anxious for his well-being.

* * *

Contrary to Peter's worries, however, Edmund and Per were not in any danger of becoming intimate with each other, as they both already had objects of affection and each knew of the other's; and indeed, what with all the Creatures of the Western Woods clamouring to see King Edmund and the many places that they were pressed upon to visit, they hardly had a moment alone. And of course the Horses were nearly always with them, and even though Mr. Tumnus had parted from them for two days to tidy things up at his home, he returned the following evening with twenty of his fellow Fauns who wished to perform dances for the young king and his squire.

The two Sons of Adam also kept busy by helping the woodland Creatures whenever they could. They carried mud for Mr. Beaver when he patched a section of his dam and assisted Mrs. Beaver in taking apart her sewing machine for oiling. Per was delighted to help Mrs. Weasel with her washing, just like he always did at Cair Paravel, and even offered to watch her little ones while she went to market. Edmund asked the Animals where they might wish for better roads and (after sorting through the confusing array of answers with the Dwarfs, who were quite clever about that sort of thing) called on the larger Beasts and Talking Trees as well to help with the task.

Almost as soon as he had been made king, Edmund had set out to ensure that the main thoroughfares of Narnia were well tended to — for that had been the first really practical thought he had come up with regarding the governance of the land, back on his cold trek to the White Witch's castle. During her reign, the taxes levied on the Narnians had been used solely for her own pleasure, so for a hundred years the comforts of the Narnian citizens had been ignored: roads (other than the ones the White Witch used) had fallen into disrepair, bridges had crumbled, and certain foods (such as fresh fruit and vegetables) had been so hard to come by that some of the younger Beasts hardly knew what they were. With the proper seasons restored to the land, produce had become plentiful again, but it had been a very good thing that King Edmund remembered to repair the roads and bridges — especially since the Creatures could not have forded the Great River in some places once the Witch's ice was melted.

Now Edmund commissioned the expansion of some of the narrow lanes in the Western Woods, which were little more than trails that had been kept passable out of necessity by the Beasts who used them. He also had the Dwarfs replace several steep, worn steps with shallower and wider stones so that even the smallest Beasts could climb them. Brambles were cut back to prevent them from scratching travelers (and offered to the Donkey families who lived nearby) and overhanging branches were pruned under the supervision of the Trees themselves, making more roads accessible for Centaurs and Minotaurs and other tall Creatures. On the whole, these improvements would make life better for all of the inhabitants of the area.

Within a few days of arriving at Beaversdam, though, Edmund had heard enough troubling rumours about a Harpy on the Western Cliffs to decide that it warranted further inquiry. With their original party re-assembled and a few of the local Fauns and Satyrs joining them, they set out early one morning to follow the Great River further upstream and to the west, making it to the Great Falls in the last dim light of the day. Here the River cascaded down from the high Western Cliffs in a sheer drop to Cauldron Pool, which bubbled and churned with the never-ending flow of water. They made camp a little way downriver, taking shelter beside a large boulder, for the Great Falls also sent up a spray of fine mist that would have drenched the boys' clothes in an hour if they had stayed nearby.

"I say," Edmund observed, once they had a fire going, "this boulder must have been a part of the cliff before. See how the seams and cracks are at odds with the ground? It must have crumbled off of the cliff-face and tumbled here. Maybe the River seeped through one of the cracks until it split and knocked off the whole thing. Golly, that must've been a dreadful sight!"

Per squinted up at the cliff but could see very little since the Moon had not yet risen. "There must have been a great noise when it fell, indeed. From what I saw of the cliff as we drew near, it stands very tall. My Lord Edmund, what lies beyond that precipice?"

"The Western Wild — it's not Narnia proper, although some of our People live there," Edmund answered. "It's mostly rocks and trees (not the Talking kind) until you get to the Great Mountains. One of the old maps at Cair shows that the Great River starts in a valley up in those mountains. There's supposed to be a special hill made by Aslan, a garden of sorts, where the River first springs out of the ground, although nobody I've talked to has ever been to it."

Of course Edmund said that because he didn't yet know that the Professor (with whom he had at least exchanged greetings, back in England) had been to Narnia when it was first created, let alone that he had journeyed to the Garden with Fledge the first Flying Horse of Narnia on an errand for Aslan. He had heard of the Lord Diggory and Lady Polly in his History lessons with the Centaurs, but he didn't know the Professor by that name and had not met Miss Plummer.

At any rate, as they were finishing up their supper with some berries that the Satyrs had found along the banks of the River, a few Squirrels and two Moles came to see who the travelers were. The Beasts were startled but pleased to discover that King Edmund himself had come to investigate about the Harpy, even though all of the Squirrels' fluffy tails drooped at the mention of the she-monster.

"Eh! That's a sad business, that is," said one of the Moles, shaking his head.

"You'll be wantin' to talk to Rupert the Pig," said the other, "seein' as 'ow he's lost two o' his brothers."

"What?" Edmund gasped. "So the rumours are true?"

"Aye, Your Majesty... too true," answered the first one (his name was Douglas) with a sigh. "Why, just t'other day, Lloyd the Badger was snatched up the moment he peered out of his door — right in front of his wife, Eileen, who hasn't dared come out of their burrow since. Been cryin' her eyes out, she has, and who can blame her? They just 'ad their first litter this spring."

"We've been a-diggin' more tunnels around these parts, so's we can get food to each other without comin' to the surface, you see," the other Mole (Stephen) explained. "The Harpy seems to come out most times at night, so you can imagine how we all avoids comin' out when it's dark! Even the Owls have 'ad to move away on account of her eatin' up all the bats in these parts."

"And yet, my good friends, you ventured out to warn us of the danger, didn't you?" Edmund said, horrified at their news but touched by their courage all the more. "I thank you for your kindness, and for risking your own lives for strangers that you didn't even know."

"Aww, shucks, it was nuthin'," said Stephen, blushing (though you couldn't tell through his dark fur). "We couldn't very well leave folks as didn't know to get snatched up by the likes of **her**."

"And we 'ad no notion that you were Knights and Horses with swords an' all," Douglas added. "I can't tell you, Your Highness, 'ow glad we are to see you come to deal with the monster. Even the Centaurs, as big and strong as they are, can't get to 'er since she flies over 'em and hides in a cave high up on the cliff."

The Squirrels offered to guide them to the various victims' families the next morning (the Moles preferred to stay underground while the Sun was out), so with renewed determination Edmund promised the Beasts to rid their forest of the Harpy if it was at all within his power to do so. Having learned that many of the Talking Animals had already fallen prey to the monster, the young king did not think he could fall asleep, and — since it was now obvious that they would need to keep guard all night — he decided to take the first watch. Per, who was also feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of those bereaved, grieving families, joined him.

Edmund was looking up at the sky, wondering if he would be able to see the Harpy as a shadow against the bright stars, when the Moon rose up from the distant horizon of the Sea. He could not see it at first since they were surrounded by trees, but the velvety blackness between the stars grew brighter, to a dark hue of blue, and some of the leaves in the treetops shimmered with the pale light. Thinking that his balcony at Cair Paravel would be bathed in the moonlight, Edmund felt a sharp stab of pain in his heart when he realised that Peter might be out on that balcony at this very moment, looking at the same heavens. He wished that his older brother were with him now (not just to help him with the Harpy) and was almost overcome with longing for him.

"King Edmund," came a low whisper from Per — a welcome distraction.

"Yes?"

"I... I was wondering... Your Majesty, I've never seen a Harpy," the boy hesitantly confessed.

"Oh! Well, I should jolly well hope not," Edmund responded, also whispering so as to not awaken the others. "They're nasty Creatures, and I'd hoped we'd gotten rid of all of them by now... They have the body of a woman, sort of, but very ugly, and wings like a bat, and razor-sharp talons like birds of prey. I'm sure they could easily carry off most of the smaller sorts of Animals — even the Talking ones — as they're pretty strong. I've never heard of a **good** Harpy, come to think of it. I've a feeling that they're all bad, through and through. If this one has been... snatching up a—and **eating**... our Talking Beasts, we must put it to death. I just hope we'll be able to quickly, before anybody else gets... **taken**..."

Edmund said this last with a shudder, and Per (who had turned rather pale at the description of the monster) wholeheartedly agreed.

* * *

In the morning they first visited Eileen the Badger, who was finally persuaded to come out of her home, by a different door than the one from which her husband had been snatched. Her neighbors had been supplying her with enough food for her family, she told Edmund between dabbing at her eyes with a tiny handkerchief and wringing it out. The young king pulled out several Lions from the money-bag on his belt (he had very little need of them while traveling, since it was quite easy to live off of the land during the summer) and pressed them into her paw — one for each kit — with the promise to send more upon his return to Cair Paravel. She was speechless with gratitude, bobbing curtseys to him again and again, while her brood (delighted to be freed from the confines of their burrow at last) scampered about on the grass under Per and Mr. Tumnus' watchful eyes.

"Look there, Your Majesty," one of the Satyrs, Echaphas, said as he pointed to a large branch of the oak tree that spread out over the Badgers' home. "Claw marks on the bark — the Harpy must have perched there and lain in wait for them."

"Indeed. She must have seen their door at the base of the tree and planned it," Edmund agreed with a grim countenance. "There can be no doubt then: she is targeting Talking Animals as prey. She must be destroyed at once."

The Squirrels next led them to Rupert the Pig's home, a stone cottage with a black slate roof in the middle of a field. Rupert had a thriving farm with a coop full of hens, but he remarked bitterly how the Harpy had not even attempted to get at **them**.

"She took my youngest brother first... Roy had always been small, and was a tad slower than Robert and me," he explained, keeping his bristled chin from quivering with some difficulty. "He lived in a house with a thatched roof — she tore it apart and carried him off, no doubt to her lair... Then, scarcely a week later, she got at my other brother, Robert... His house had wooden shingles, but she tore them off, too... As you can see, I'd shingled my roof with slate last year — hauled them up from the quarry myself — but she tried to pry them loose as well the other night. That's when I hurled firebrands at her until one of them singed her wing and she gave up. I was all in a muck sweat, I can tell you (a-begging Your Majesty's pardon), huffing and puffing from the work, but I was right glad to have at least given her some pain after what... what she'd done to m—my brothers..."

Here the aggrieved Pig broke down into sobs, and Edmund could not help but shed kingly tears of mourning as well, for he could imagine how devastating it would be to lose his **own** brother — his very dearest brother, Peter — and the pain in his heart could not be contained. When they had both had a good cry (Rupert on the young king's shoulder), Edmund gripped the Pig's arms and looked directly into his eyes.

"Rest assured, my friend: by the Lion's mane, I shall avenge your brothers' deaths!" he swore.


	48. Battle with the Harpy

My Fair Brother

* * *

Edmund asked the Squirrels to guide them to the Harpy's lair and, though the small Creatures shuddered with fright at the thought of going so near the dreaded she-monster, they agreed to do so in the hopes of having their land rid of her for good. They took heart at being invited to ride the Horses with the two Sons of Adam; Mr. Tumnus preferred to walk with his fellow Fauns so the two bigger Squirrels rode Phineas together. Rustleleaf, the one riding with Per, consented to let him stroke his fur when he saw how the boy admired it, so Per was able to forget the dangerous purpose of their journey for a while.

They headed west through woods thick with brambles, having to hack their way through the worst parts, but eventually arrived at the base of the sheer cliff that separated Narnia from the Western Wild. Edmund and his small retinue — Per, seven Fauns, five Satyrs, three Horses, and four Squirrels — all looked up the craggy cliff-face to the dark gash in the rock that was the entrance to the Harpy's cave.

"Well. It wouldn't do to try to climb it," Edmund said with a sigh. "Even if we made it up there, she could come flying out at any time and pick us off the cliff like so many sitting ducks. If we had ropes, now, we might have a chance; but she could just as easily drop the grappling hooks and let us fall to our deaths."

"It would seem, Your Majesty, that we have need of wings," Mr. Tumnus suggested.

"As we cannot grow them upon our own backs, we must borrow from those who have them," Edmund agreed. "Nutshell, you said that the Owls have left these parts for lack of food. What other great Birds might still be nearby?"

"There is Nightplume the Raven, Sire, and one or two Eagles in the North Pines," the Squirrel answered.

"Hardly enough to carry all of us up there, let alone at once," Edmund mused out loud. "How long would it take the fleetest of us to reach the North Pines?"

"We could be there and back by nightfall, Your Majesty," Mitchell offered.

"Your Highness, if I may," Echaphas, one of the local Satyrs, interrupted. "There are Winged Horses living in the Western Wild that may assist us. Not a fortnight ago I saw one flying along the cliffs as though searching for something; perhaps it was seeking to destroy the Harpy itself."

"That would be most helpful, if they would be willing to carry us up," Edmund said. "Nutshell, would you ask Nightplume the Raven to present our request to the Winged Horses?"

"Of course, King Edmund," Nutshell replied, then took off through the tree branches, his tail bristled in excitement.

"I just hope Nightplume knows where the Winged Horses live," Edmund remarked.

"They should not be hard to find, my Lord," Echaphas assured him. "They are large creatures, easy enough to spot even when they are not flying."

This reminded them that if the Harpy were looking out from her lair, the Horses (of the non-winged variety) would be clearly visible as well, so the party moved back under the cover of the forest.

* * *

Nightplume did indeed know where the Winged Horses lived and was more than happy to take the missive to them, as Nutshell reported upon his return. The group had found a hollow suitable for pitching their camp, and while they were settling in they were startled by two stately Oak Dryads who approached and bowed before the king.

"Hail, King Edmund, Duke of Lantern Waste," said the taller (and older) of the two in his low, rumbling voice. "The little ones of the forest have whispered news of your presence here. They say you have come to vanquish the abhominable Creature that has plagued our woods these past few months. We come to lend whatsoever aid we may, our Lord."

"That is indeed our business here," Edmund replied, his face grim. "We hope to enlist the Winged Horses to carry us up to the monster's lair and there engage her in combat. It may be a perilous enterprise, and we know not yet if the Winged Horses will assist us. Is there any chance you and the other Trees could help us scale the cliff?"

"Up the sheer rock, Your Majesty? It is not impossible, but it would take our roots days, weeks, even months to break apart the stone," the Oak answered. "However, if you find the Winged Ones willing to carry your army, we shall gather as many Trees as live in these parts to stand guard below, to catch any that may fall and be in danger of breaking their limbs."

"Splendid! That will remove the greater part of the Harpy's advantage over us," Edmund said, his expression brightening.

"Then we shall not delay in gathering the supple Beeches and Aspens, our brothers the Firs and the Rowans."

The two Dryads bowed again before departing in different directions into the wood. Watching them leave, Edmund was struck with an idea.

"Per, are you any good at climbing trees?"

"I—I don't know, Your Majesty. It's been a long time since I've attempted it..."

"Well, let's find the tallest one around here and see if we can't get a better view of that cave."

The two boys scrabbled their way up a pine tree with the assistance of the three remaining Squirrels, who gave them such impossible directions (assuming that Sons of Adam could leap as high as they were tall, like Squirrels could) that Edmund thought to himself that they might manage better without. Their clothes were smeared with sap in the process and their hands suffered a few minor scratches, but after several minutes Edmund was able to survey the entrance of the cave from his perch near the top of the tree. The opening was three quarters of the way up the cliff — a difficult if not impossible climb, while also a dangerous descent from the top of the rock. The cavern looked to have been formed by a river that had cut into a fissure of the rock before crashing to the lower land below, much like the Great Falls, though there was no sign of water now. Edmund surmised that the Hundred Years' Winter might have altered the course of the headwaters with accumulated ice.

"Looks like flying is the only way to reach it," Edmund muttered. Per's stomach felt hollow at the thought of being taken up into the air by a large winged Creature, but he held his tongue. It was just as well, for a minute later they saw the great forms of a dozen Flying Horses — with gleaming white, black, and chestnut hides — soaring over the cliffs. Edmund waved his stained kerchief as a signal to them, after which the Winged Ones circled for a few minutes, looking for a place to land. They dipped out of sight into the trees a little way south, then came galloping into the camp before Edmund and Per had quite made it down to the ground.

"Hail, King Edmund, Count of the Western March!" the first one cried in a Horsey voice as he pulled up a few paces from the tree and bowed to Edmund with his wings outspread. "Hail! Hail!" the other Winged Horses echoed behind him.

"Well met, my friends," Edmund responded gravely before dropping down from the lowest branch. Per fell to the ground in a less dignified heap behind him, his embarrassment compounded by the sight of the magnificent Flying Horses. For, although all Narnian Talking Horses are graceful and strong (and would put a normal horse in our world to shame), the Winged Horses of the Western Wild are more glorious still, their flanks muscular and their hides glossy, with thick manes and tails that streamed behind them when their powerful wings bore them aloft. Per only barely managed to get to his feet, so taken was he at the sight of the awe-inspiring Creatures.

"We come to offer you our service, my Lord," the first Flying Horse declared. "If you have need of us to carry you to the wicked monster's lair, we would gladly render our wings for as long as you may command; however, our teeth are sharp as well and our hooves strong. If the Harpy can be brought into the open air for fair engagement, it shall know the fury of the Winged Guardians of the West. We have long since known of its preying on our fair cousins, the Talking Beasts of Narnia, and would have torn the monster's wings asunder had Aslan given us opportunity. Lead us, O King, and let this land be rid of all such vile fiends!"

"Indeed, your teeth and hooves may very well be needed to destroy the foul demon," Edmund told them, "but as I have sworn to the families of those slain by the Harpy to kill her myself, I am loath to let the ugly task fall to any other if it is at all possible to do the deed by my own hand. And so I ask of you, carry as many of our party as are fit for battle (and small enough to enter yonder cave) to the entrance and await our return. We shall have aid ere long in the form of our friends, the Trees, who will prepare a net of their limbs below to prevent any of us from falling to his death, should the battle prove more difficult than we foresee."

"We shall be ready to fly at your command, Your Majesty," the Flying Horse replied with a neat little bow.

* * *

The woods grew subtly more crowded as the Talking Trees began assembling at the foot of the cliff. Per was learning the different kinds of Trees from Rustleleaf while the large Elms and shimmering Birches took up their positions, creating a dense, intertwining net of branches that soon blocked the sunlight from the forest floor. After some discussion with the elders of the Trees, the Fauns and Satyrs, and Choreus, the captain of the Winged Horses, Edmund decided to launch their attack on the Harpy as soon as enough Trees had gathered.

"By all accounts, Harpies are nocturnal Creatures," Edmund explained. "She attacked Lloyd the Badger and Rupert's two brothers at night. If we enter the cave by day, she may still be sleeping and we would have the advantage of surprise."

"We should take torches, Your Majesty," Mr. Tumnus suggested. "If she is avoiding the light of day, we may be able to blind her with the light of fire."

"Jolly good idea," Edmund agreed, and the Trees obliged by shedding several of their long limbs. Some of the Pines supplied them with pitch and the Fauns gathered rushes to bind around the ends and so, armed with torches and a few swords, the company mounted the Flying Horses. The last few Trees crowded round the foot of the cliff, lifting their arms and weaving their branches together. After checking that all were ready, Edmund led the charge by raising his torch and shouting, "For Narnia!"

Per bit his lip to keep from crying out as his mount went almost immediately into canter, then a gallop, its great black wings beating the air on either side with powerful strokes. He clung to the Horse's neck as they reached the clearing, and with a great rush of wind, the majestic Beast kicked off the ground to become airborne. Per thought he had left his stomach behind him and worried for a moment that he might be sick, but once aloft the Winged Horse flew quite smoothly. The boy looked about, shocked to find that they were already high above the Trees and getting higher still. He had no time to admire the view, however, for they were fast approaching the cave.

As planned, Edmund was the first to leap from the back of his ride to the narrow passage in the rock; he rolled as he landed, managing to keep his torch over his head so that he did not burn himself or extinguish the flames. He quickly ascertained that the Harpy was not near the mouth of the cave, then motioned for Per to follow. Although the flight through the air had been relatively smooth, it took the Winged Horse much effort to stay in the same position – while Per struggled to stand upon its back, its wings beat the air to stay aloft, and the Creature could not help but move back and forth with a surging motion at every flap. Finally finding his balance and not daring to look down, Per leapt into the cavern and stumbled to his knees. At least he had not dropped the torch, and although he felt a slight twinge in his ankle, it was not sprained.

Edmund helped him to his feet and pulled him further in as the Fauns and Satyrs began entering in the same manner. They all drew their swords before stepping into the depths of the cave, carefully lighting their way with the torches since the tunnel was filled with jagged stalagmites that would trip them as well as pointed stalactites that threatened to spear the head of any unwary Creature. It occurred to Per that they looked like teeth; the unpleasant thought made him shiver, but he kept close behind Edmund as they quietly picked their way deeper into the cave.

The passage had been wide enough for three to walk abreast at the entrance, but it grew gradually narrower until they were forced to walk single file. Edmund insisted on going first, refusing Echaphas' offer to lead with a curt shake of his head. Seeing his grim but determined expression in the torchlight, Per realised with sudden awe that the young man – barely more than a boy – whom he served as squire was not only a Knight but also a true King of Narnia.

After they had turned a bend in the tunnel, Edmund pointed his naked sword at what looked like a curved stick on the ground; with a shudder, Per saw that it was actually a bone, perhaps the rib of a large Animal. There began to be a foul stench in the air as well, which grew more pungent the further they went. Soon there were bones (and other nasty things) strewn everywhere, so much so that they were forced to mind every step they took – if they kicked something by mistake, the sound could alert the Harpy to their presence. At long last they came to a place where the cavern grew wider, and Edmund shone his torch on the snoring form of the hideous creature as it lay in a pile of bones.

"Rise, foul hag!" the young king called out in a voice that rang with authority. "Prepare to meet your fate, for I have sworn by Aslan's mane to avenge the blood of my people!"

The Harpy started at the sound and was on her feet in an instant, but Mr. Tumnus was proven right: she was blinded by the light of the torches, having been used to the darkness of her cave and venturing out only at night. Nevertheless, she groped and thrashed out with her filthy claws, shrieking in anger at the intruders. The cave soon echoed with her cries as Edmund brought his sword down upon her arms, neatly severing first one, then the other, to prevent her from scratching him. Glancing at the limbs lying upon the ground, Per thought with grim satisfaction that they would never snatch up another Creature, never tear another Badger or Squirrel or Mole to its awful death again.

The Harpy hugged what was left of her arms to her chest, howling in pain yet still hissing with rage as well.

"I'll eats you! Every one of you, I'll rips apart and pulls the hearts out while it beats! And I'll eats it, yes, I will!"

"Silence! You shall not harm another Beast in my realm." Edmund pointed his sword-tip at the Harpy's throat. "I only give you this one chance to repent of your evil deeds before I send you to your death, so that perhaps the great Emperor-beyond-the-Sea might grant you some mercy hereafter."

The Creature screamed at the mention of the Emperor, then spat blindly at Edmund, missing his tunic by only an inch.

"I'll eats all the fat piggies and furries I wants! This was the White Lady's land, it was! The Talking Pigs she gives me to eats, yes, she did! They never listens to what she tells them, so she tells me to eats them all up! Nasty piggies..."

"Enough! I see you are incapable of remorse." Edmund mouth was set in a hard line. "Prepare to meet your Maker, fiend!"

As the king drew his sword back for the final blow and stepped closer to the Harpy, Per noticed that the Creature was suddenly spreading its wings, and he also saw that at each joint of the bat-like appendages there were curved, cruel-looking claws as well.

"Look out!" he shouted, but he knew before he had spoken the words that the warning would not be enough.


	49. The Return of the King

My Fair Brother

* * *

His heart pounding in his throat, Per darted forward with his sword upraised and struck at the nearest talon; his blade hit the bony spur beneath the leathery hide and glanced off. As the wing rushed forward at him, the hooked claw intent on ripping him asunder, he instinctively warded off the blow with the closest weapon at hand: his torch. The fire singed the black membrane of the wing, filling the cavern with acrid smoke, and the Harpy drew back against the wall with a howl.

On her other side, Edmund had realised the danger thanks to Per's warning, but although he had ducked to avoid the full impact of the blow, the claw curved down and caught him on his right shoulder. He could not help dropping his sword as streaks of pain shot through his arm like lightning; however, he also struck back with the torch in his left hand. The foul smoke made both boys retch, their eyes watering until they were nearly blinded, and the Fauns and Satyrs crowding behind them coughed as the stench filled their nostrils. The Harpy's piercing shrieks reverberated throughout the cavern as well, assaulting their ears and threatening to shake loose the stalactites upon their heads.

Edmund winced in pain as he reached for his sword, but once the grip was in his hand, he did not let it go.

"For Narnia, and for Aslan!" he spat out against the smoke before bringing the blade down upon the Harpy's neck. He did not have enough strength to sever the bone and flesh in one stroke, so the weapon bit into her spine with a sickening crack. Edmund pulled back the sword and, with practiced aim, hacked neatly at the same place a second time, then a third, while the Harpy screamed in helpless rage. Finally, the Creature's head fell with a dull thud to the rocky floor of the cavern, its last cries echoed for a moment, then all was still save the lingering coughs of the little army.

"Phew! That's nasty," Edmund gasped, breathing through his sleeve as he stumbled back, looking for something with which to clean his bloodied sword. "Let's go let the Horses know the good news. Ugh... I'm glad _that's_ over!"

* * *

Of course the worst part about battles (and what they don't tell you about in most books) is that there is always more to be done before it is truly over. Even before he'd inhaled a few draughts of clean air at the entrance of the cave, Edmund realised that the bones of the Talking Animals devoured by the Harpy would have to be gathered and returned to their families – or at least, as much as possible. There were countless bones strewn throughout the cavern, and although some of the larger ones (like the Pigs') were easy enough to identify, most of the smaller ones were a hopeless jumble. The Fauns and Satyrs solemnly carried them to the cave mouth, then lowered them in bundles and sacks to the Trees below, where the Squirrels and other Beasts sorted them with care according to their size and, when possible, the type of Animal to which they belonged.

Edmund knelt to help pick up a few bones near the mouth of the cave, but as he reached behind a stalagmite he was reminded of his injury by a sharp, searing pain running from the back of his shoulder all the way into his fingers.

"Ow! Oh, hang it all, she must've scratched me," he muttered. Per was immediately at his side, peering at his torn tunic.

"We should have that looked at properly, Your Majesty," he said, alarmed by the red gash in his Knight's skin. "It needs to be cleaned, for who knows what sort of poison might have been on her claws?"

"I suppose so. I just don't know if I can manage to jump on to a Flying Horse," Edmund admitted with a wince.

"We can lower you with the ropes, King Edmund," Mr. Tumnus said. "There are enough of us with strong backs to do so safely."

Word of the King's injury spread quickly and Nightplume was dispatched at once to the home of Galen, a Centaur well-known for his skill as a healer. While the Satyrs constructed a sling in which to lower Edmund, Echaphus approached him and asked, "What shall we do with the Harpy's remains?"

"I would say burn it with the rest of the pitch, but the fumes would smother the one who set fire to it," Edmund pondered aloud.

"Perhaps not, Your Majesty. We found a cleft in the rock deeper within the cave, where it appears water had previously flowed into it from above. If we disposed of the body there, the smoke would vent out of the opening."

"Very well. Of your courtesy, supervise that task for me; I shall ask the Trees and Beasts of the Western Wild to fill in the hole with stones and dirt thereafter. I wish it were possible to fill this entire cavern to blot out the memory of that vile Creature."

"I am certain that they would be glad to do so, however long it may take," Echaphus gravely replied.

Edmund was successfully lowered from the cave into the hands of the Trees, and his wound was bathed with clean water from a spring while his bloodied tunic was washed and mended by some Otters. Many of the woodland Creatures had gathered to celebrate the death of the dreaded monster, but their joy was tempered by the sad sight of the many bones of their fellows – some even of their friends – being laid out upon the ground. When the last of them had been brought down and the Harpy's body had been set ablaze in the deep recesses of the cave, the Fauns and Satyrs rejoined them by leaping on to the backs of the Flying Horses, who then carried them down to the clearing. It was a solemn assembly of mourners into which Galen the Centaur galloped with a sack of herbs strapped to his chest.

"I have heard that the King is injured! Where is the King?" he cried, in no mood to waste time.

"I am here, my good friend; and though I am not so grievously injured as you may have been led to believe, I do thank you for your haste in coming," Edmund told him.

The Centaur examined his wound, sewed together the worst part of the gash with thread spun from spider webs, then boiled some herbs for a poultice.

"You must not use your arm for a fortnight at least, Your Majesty," Galen instructed him as he wrapped his entire shoulder with bandages. "The skin will mend sooner than the flesh beneath. The dressing must be changed once in the morning and once in the evening; I shall fashion a sling in which to rest your arm. With proper care, there will be no lasting damage to the shoulder, but I must warn against using it before it is completely healed."

"I can assure you of that, so long as there are no more Harpies to be slain," Edmund answered with a brief, half-hearted smile. "I only wish I had been told sooner of the Creature's wanton slaughter of our dear cousins; perhaps we might have been able to prevent so many from being murdered by the monster."

The piles of bones were a sobering sight indeed. Lloyd the Badger's were gathered up and wrapped in a clean cloth to be taken to his widow; Rupert the Pig had come, as soon as word had reached him of the Harpy's demise, to claim what remained of his two brothers. He tried to thank King Edmund for avenging their deaths but his grief was too great for him to speak. Edmund nodded in understanding and shed bitter tears with him, gripping his shoulder. With a final, wordless bow, Rupert left the company to return to his home, carrying the bones of his brothers in a sack, weeping all the way.

"But what of the others?" the Beasts whispered amongst themselves. "What shall we do with them?"

"My friends, is there a place nearby where sunlight cheers the soul and flowers bloom through all but the coldest months?" Edmund asked.

"Aye, that there is," an old Hedgehog piped up. "There is a field just a short walk south and east of here, on a bit of a rise. Our goaty cousins dance there on full moon nights with the Dryads, leaving it clear of brush and full of meadow flowers."

"Would you consent to giving up a portion of that land as a resting place for these unfortunate souls?" Edmund said, addressing the Satyrs and Fauns.

"Yes, Your Majesty," and "Of course," they all replied in one accord. So the party formed a slow, silent procession with the Hedgehog leading them to the spot. There the Moles dug a trench along the edge of the trees on the north side of the clearing, where the sunlight shone the most, and buried the bones, covering them with the fragrant turf again. And, so that their places would not soon be forgotten, Edmund asked the Trees to break off pieces of the cliff-face as stone markers, upon which the assembled woodland Animals placed wreaths of wildflowers. Per wondered if the King might make a speech, as would be expected in Archenland, but after a few minutes of quiet reflection – and everyone was perfectly still, except for the occasional swish of a tail or buzzing of a bee – King Edmund led the mourners back to the foot of the cliff again.

"Stephen, Douglas," he said to the Moles, "I wish I could destroy that cavern entirely... blow it up with dynamite, which is something Men in my world use to blast large rocks into sand, but of course I don't have any here. Is it possible to fill it with dirt, stones, and rubble – fill it so that it can never again be used by a dark Creature as its den?"

"Aye, Your Majesty; that we can do, and with a will," Douglas replied. "We'd just be needin' some 'elp climbing down this 'ere cliff, Sire, since we'd be wantin' to come 'ome to our families once it were over."

The Winged Horses were happy to assist them in both the ascent to and descent from the cave, so in the warm light of the westering sun (which made them squint, though not painfully) the Moles rode up to the top of the cliff and began their work on burying the entire cavern – a task they continued through the night. They also sought out their long-lost cousins, the Moles who had, over long centuries, scaled the heights of the Western Wild and made it their home, so that there was a troupe of two dozen or more of them working at it. The Trees that lived on the top of the cliff helped as well, digging up boulders from elsewhere and rolling them into the crevice where the Harpy had been burned. By the next morning, they were pleased to report that the tunnel had been completely filled in.

Meanwhile, Edmund asked two local Dwarfs to carve an inscription on the wall of the cliff, directly beneath the mouth of the cave. It read as follows:

In the third year of the reign of Peter,  
High King of Narnia and Lord of Cair Paravel,  
I, King Edmund, brother to King Peter,  
slew a most wicked, cruel, and impenitent Harpy  
who sought to devour our sovereign subjects,  
the Talking Beasts of Narnia, in this very place.  
Let this inscription stand as an eternal warning  
to any who would do harm to our People;  
the Regents of Aslan shall not abide any Creature  
so vile as to wantonly murder the Animals  
entrusted by Aslan to be their loyal subjects,  
nor shall they dismiss such violation lightly.  
As Duke of Lantern Waste and Count of the Western March,  
I pledge my sword, my honour, and my life  
to defend the good denizens here against all such evil interlopers  
and charge all subsequent holders of the office to do likewise.  
Inscribed this XXIst day of the month of Shadewold  
by the hands of Grimkin and Storblud of Rock End  
Long live King Aslan!

"Although I rather doubt that Creatures like Harpies can read," Edmund confessed to Per privately, "I think it sounds rather grand, and I hope it serves as a reminder to the folk who live here that I will come to their aid whenever they need it – all they have to do is ask."

"Indeed, I doubt not that your conquest today will be spoken of for many years to come; they are not likely to forget it," Per said with sincere respect.

Edmund blushed and mumbled, "Well, it was only one Harpy. And it's not like I didn't have help. And even then, I managed to get hurt."

"Still, you fought the monster with your own hand, despite your injury," Per insisted. "You courageously led the attack into the cave, even though you did not know for certain what awaited us there. Such noble deeds are worthy of being sung!"

"It's not that I wasn't scared – because I was, you know. Scared stiff. But someone had to do it, and that someone was me. I'm the King, whether I like it or not." Edmund laughed at himself with a somewhat hollow feeling in his heart. "I used to think that being King meant living a life of ease on the backs of others... and I'm sure there are loads of kings like that in our world, maybe even in the southern countries here beyond Archenland. But after meeting Aslan, and knowing what he did for me... I understand now that a true King must live as a servant to all of his subjects – the first to charge into any battle, no matter how hopeless it might be, and the first to suffer any ills that may befall the land. It's a much heavier burden than I had ever expected it to be... but I can hardly shirk my duties when Aslan did all that and so much more... for _me_."

Unable to find any words equal to the awesome weight of Edmund's crown, Per simply nodded.

* * *

When the original band of travelers returned to Beaversdam, Mrs. Beaver threw up her paws in despair.

"Eh! What a sight you are! A-begging Your Majesty's pardon, but your shirt's torn and tattered, you've broken an arm or two, and you look as though you haven't eaten in days. We must fatten you up before we send you back to Cair Paravel, no doubt about it. And what a mercy I still have some cloth for to make you a new shirt! I do declare, Sons of Adam must be the hardest sort of Creatures to keep clean..."

They did indeed feast on the trout Mr. Beaver caught that day, as well as Mrs. Beaver's fresh-baked bread and delicious turnip casserole. Edmund was glad to have a few days' rest, just sitting in the shade and visiting with the local Animals while their kits, cubs, and pups frolicked with Per, their new-found friend; however, he was equally glad when Mrs. Beaver decided, at long last, that he had been "fattened up" enough and was fit for traveling back to the castle. It had seemed like an incredibly long time since he had bid farewell to Peter and his sisters; after his battle with the Harpy, his longing for his brother had, if anything, only increased. So it was with fond embraces and renewed energy that they took their leave of the Beavers and headed home.

* * *

Peter had finished a grueling swordsmanship training session with Morchaeus the Minotaur about an hour earlier and, after bathing in cool water, was sitting in a chair set out under a shady pear tree in the garden. He wasn't dozing, exactly, but he wasn't altogether awake, either, when Lucy ran up to him with a handful of wild blackberries.

"Look, Peter! Elsa found these," she said as she perched (none too gently) on his lap.

"Ouf! Oh, Lu... you're getting a little too big for this, I'm afraid," Peter grunted, struggling to find a more comfortable position.

"You really think so?" Lucy said, her brow furrowed with worry.

"Well, pretty soon, anyway." Peter helped himself to a couple of the berries. "These are delicious."

Lucy beamed with pleasure. Elsa the Panther had found the bush and, though she had no interest in berries herself, the kind Beast had told the younger Queen about it for the express purpose of cheering King Peter up; for most if not all of the Creatures who lived in and around Cair Paravel had noticed how listless the High King had been of late, and they were devising sundry ways of lightening his mood.

Wingsong the Seagull glided into the garden just then, fluttering her wings for a moment before landing on the grass.

"Hail, King Peter!" she keened in her high-pitched voice. "I bring you good tidings: King Edmund and his party are even now approaching the castle."

"Is he, indeed?" Peter asked in delight, sitting up with sudden interest brightening his countenance.

"Yes, Your Majesty – I saw him riding up through the woods but a moment ago."

Both Lucy and Peter scrambled out of the chair and dashed to the western gate of the courtyard, arriving just as the guards atop the ramparts blew a blast on their trumpets, announcing the return of the King.


	50. Edmund Hatches Another Plan

My Fair Brother

* * *

Peter only barely restrained himself from running out to meet the returning party, which would have been a rather un-High-King-like thing to do, but he could not help beaming with joy to see his brother wave at him as Phillip cantered up the grassy knoll to the gate. When Peter noticed the sling in which Edmund's other hand was cradled, however, his grin immediately disappeared.

"What on earth happened to your arm?" he demanded as soon as Edmund was within earshot, before Phillip had even come to a complete halt.

"It's nothing; in fact it's mostly healed already, but Galen the Centaur – he's the chap who tended it – made me promise to not use this arm for a few more days yet. And it's not really my arm that's hurt, just the back of my shoulder, and for heaven's sake don't look at me as though I nearly got myself killed! It was only one Harpy, and Per and all the Fauns and Satyrs were with me."

"Harpy!" Peter exclaimed as Edmund adroitly stepped out of the saddle and down to the ground. "Where? What happened? Did you kill it?"

"Of course; although I did wish you were there with us," Edmund admitted, extricating his right arm from the sling before throwing both arms about Peter's neck. "It was all rather horrid, but we did what needed to be done. I just wish I'd heard about it sooner so we could have dealt with her before she killed so many of our people; but at least it's over and done now."

Peter had automatically returned his brother's embrace and, upon hearing the weariness seep into Edmund's voice as he recounted his ordeal, he hugged him in a crushing grip. Luckily his arms were about Edmund's waist, far from his wound, so the tightness only filled his younger sibling with warmth and happiness.

"Well, I'm glad you're back now," Peter mumbled into Edmund ear as their cheeks pressed together.

"Are you sure you don't want a drop of my cordial?" Lucy asked, reminding them of her presence as well as that of all the other Creatures who had come to the gate to welcome the travelers home.

"No need, Lu – like I said, it's mostly healed. Per has been dressing it for me morning and night, just like Galen showed us, and the skin's completely grown over. I just have to wait for the muscles to knit together properly." After Peter reluctantly released him, Edmund hugged his sister with unfeigned fondness. "The cordial should be saved for more dire injuries. But thanks for the offer. I say, have you grown taller since I left?"

"I don't know. Have I?" Lucy asked her brothers, smiling with pleasure.

"I think you must have," Edmund said as Susan ran up to them.

"Oh, Ed! We've missed you so!" she cried and hugged him, but he winced when she touched his shoulder.

"Ow! Sorry, Su – I was injured in battle," he told her with a wry grin. "I don't want you to make a fuss, but it does still hurt right there..."

"Oh! I'm so sorry. What happened?"

So of course he had to tell the whole story from the beginning again, and what with unloading the Horses and greeting everybody and having to find their bags of dirty laundry to hand over to Mrs. Dumplesugar (who insisted on getting started on them right away) and sitting down in the garden for some cold drinks, you may imagine how often he was interrupted and had to go back to start over, sometimes forgetting where he was in the story. And Per was asked for his version of events, too, and the Horses and Mr. Tumnus had their pieces to add, then Edmund remembered to tell his siblings how the Beavers missed them and were expecting them all to visit in the near future.

Peter simply drank in the sight of his brother as Edmund told them about the tribe of Talking Mice they had discovered at the Stone Table (much to the delight of the girls) and noted how Edmund seemed to have grown up a good deal during his short trip away from the castle. It was a balm to his soul to see his love happy and content, relating all of his adventures with animation. Even though his arm was in a sling, Peter was relieved to have Edmund home, safe and relatively sound.

* * *

After dinner, which Felicity and the other cooks made into a special feast to celebrate the return of the younger king and his retinue, the two queens insisted that Edmund and Per take their turn in the bath first. Peter agreed as a matter of course, then realised that it offered the perfect opportunity to inspect his brother's injury without the danger of falling into the same temptation as had assaulted him before, since they would be in Per's company also. So he asked his sisters if they would mind very much letting him go in with the other boys, to which they answered of course not, and a few minutes later he stood with a set of clean clothes in his hand and knocked on the door of the bathroom. Mr. Griswold opened it.

"I thought I would take my bath with them," he explained to the somewhat surprised Otter.

"Peter!" Edmund cried, a brilliant smile spreading across his freckled face. "Did you come to join us?"

"Yes – if it's all right with you, old chap."

"Of course it is!"

Peter trained his eyes on his brother's shoulder to prevent them from wandering elsewhere.

"Let me have a look at that wound, Ed. I see it's still red and tender... Does it hurt much to move it?"

"Not as much as it used to," Edmund replied, lifting his arm gingerly. "I shan't be able to do any sword practise for a while, but it seems to be coming along well enough."

"Good," Peter said with a sigh of relief. "Thanks for looking out for him, Per. I'm sure glad you were with him to keep him out of worse mischief."

"'Mischief'!" Edmund interjected indignantly. "I was only doing what **you** would have done if you'd been there instead. But you're right about Per keeping me from getting hurt any worse – he's the one who warned me of the Harpy's second set of claws, and just in the nick of time, too!"

"Oh, really?" Peter asked, turning a warm smile on Per, who blushed and squirmed as Edmund recounted the gruesome details of their fight with the monster (which he wisely hadn't done in front of the girls). Peter washed his brother's back while listening, trying to picture the battle scene rather than imagining what it would feel like to walk his lips across Edmund's smooth skin. He approved of Edmund's decision to bury the cave with rubble and to lay the bones of the murdered Beasts to rest in the meadow, and he was impressed with the inscription the younger king had commissioned the Dwarfs to carve on the cliff.

"You seem to have thought of everything," Peter told him with undisguised pride. "I'd pat you on the back if you weren't hurt there."

"Golly, Peter – I should hope I could do that much for our people, especially after what they had to endure! But turn around and pass me the soap; you haven't washed at all yet."

Peter felt a momentary unease, concerned that his brother might touch him inappropriately as he had done once before during a bath, but his worries were unfounded. They spent the next half hour scrubbing the dirt of travel off of the two younger boys, although by all accounts, the High King noted to himself, they were fast growing into hardy young men and warriors.

* * *

While the girls took their turn in the bath, the boys settled into the den, gathering on the comfortable chairs by the window. Per ran down the balcony to his room to fetch the poultice which Galen had given them and, under Peter's watchful eye, applied a liberal amount to Edmund's shoulder before binding it with fresh linen bandages. They helped Edmund put his loose nightshirt back on so he wouldn't strain his injury, then put their feet up on the footstools and gazed out at the ocean. The sun had begun to sink in the western sky, casting the shadow of the castle on the darkening waters below; further out, however, the dancing waves caught the light and shimmered as they crested and rolled in toward the beach in myriad shades of blue, green, and blue-green. Edmund sighed contentedly.

"By Jove, it's good to be home again! Not that staying with the Beavers isn't like going home, too, in a different way, but I'd almost forgotten how good it is to look out at the sea. Peter, do you remember the time Dad took us to the beach on holiday?"

"I sure do; I'm surprised you remember it, though – you were quite young at the time. Lucy was barely walking..."

"Oh, I remember – she didn't like the feeling of the sand between her toes," Edmund laughed. "She got used to it right away, didn't she? Or she was too excited to see the water coming in to mind much."

Peter smiled fondly at the memory. "Yes, but Su and I had to hold her hands so she wouldn't fall over, since she was still pretty unsteady on her feet. Golly, that seems like ages ago..."

"Like a whole lifetime ago," Edmund agreed, "especially the way she's growing." He felt a pang in his chest – much like the stinging of bees he had suffered so often before, only sharper – as he wondered whether Peter's affection for her had grown as well. He tried to push that thought to the back of his mind for now, wishing instead to enjoy the company of his brother as it was afforded him at the moment.

"You seem to have grown a good deal while you were away, too," Peter remarked, then added, "both of you," to include Per.

Per had been strangely silent, keeping his gaze fixed on the distant waves, and did not seem to have heard the comment. Edmund observed him and raised his brows meaningfully at Peter.

"Per, did your father ever take you to the sea or someplace on a lark?" Edmund asked, his tone direct enough to penetrate the other boy's distraction.

Roused out of his reverie and somewhat confused, Per replied, "He took me often into the woods to teach me how to shoot game, my Lord, although we saw no larks – what birds we did see were too small to trouble with. I practised mostly on coneys."

"Ah. That's something we must do more of – practise archery, I mean. It would have been a lot safer to shoot down the Harpy from a distance... not that we could have done very well in the dark," Edmund mused.

"It would be a master marksman to shoot unerringly that high up the cliff, your Majesty. Especially in the dark and with a flying target."

"True. Although I daresay some of the Centaurs might have given it a try... We could have tempted her to fly low, you know, with some bait. But all in all, I think how we ended up doing it worked well enough."

"I really do wish I'd been there," Peter said a tad fretfully. "I'd have tried to talk you into taking the safer route. Or at least, I _hope_ I would have thought of that, rather than let you go into the monster's lair and get hurt!"

Edmund responded with a short laugh. "Don't deceive yourself, Peter! You would have gone in, the same as I did, only you would've told the rest of us to hang back and stay out of harm's way or some such rot."

"That would have been the _smart_ thing to do," Peter insisted.

"Oh, bother," Edmund replied without rancor, "don't let's start talking about the _smart_ thing to do in such cases, when you know jolly well that we're neither of us good at it. But I did what needed to be done, Pete; that's the main thing. And with Per's help, I managed to get out of it with only a scratch, which was worthwhile for the sake of giving our people the peace of mind that the Harpy wouldn't trouble them any longer. I only wish we could have done it in time to save the ones who'd been eaten, though, rather than just _avenge_ them..."

Per nodded his agreement wordlessly, and Peter had to acknowledge that his brother and his squire had accomplished all that had been necessary. The three of them turned their attention back out to the Great Sea, upon which the shadow of the cliff stretched ever further with each passing minute, turning the water to a dark, inky blue that would soon reflect the clear night sky. As Peter stifled a yawn, he caught a glimpse of his brother, whose brows were knit together in thought.

"I say, Per," Edmund began, his tone seemingly ingenuous, "in all the time we've been together, I don't think I've ever heard your father's name."

"It is not well spoken of in Anvard, my Lord," the boy hesitantly answered, "but before his fall from grace, he was known as Sir Percivan. I am named after his eldest brother, who died in infancy."

"Percivan. That's a good, strong name," Edmund said. "You should be proud of him. If he did what Lord Bar forced him to do in order to protect you, he was a good father."

Before Per could respond, Mrs. Dumplesugar and Mrs. Hoppinger entered the room with a cart laden with pastries. Felicity had prepared berry tarts as well as some bite-sized pie puffs filled with rich, sweet cream that melted on their tongues. It was just as well that they set aside the girls' portions or there might not have been anything left for them at all. Mr. Tumnus (who had insisted on bathing in the laundry tub below) soon joined them for their now nightly ritual of tea.

Since Mrs. Dumplesugar had busied herself with the laundry as soon as they had ridden up to the castle, she had missed out on the stories of their travels, so Edmund retold them all over again with Mr. Tumnus and Per's assistance. Meanwhile, Peter mulled over his brother's sudden interest in Per's father (and his father's name) as he sipped his chamomile tea.

* * *

The girls, when they rejoined them, wanted to inform Edmund and Per about all that had happened during their absence, so it was much later that evening, after the sky had turned to a velvety black sprinkled with a host of glittering stars, that they all turned in. Peter had just settled into bed, lying with his hands clasped under his head, when a light tapping noise came from the pane of the open window.

"Ed?"

"Yeah. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, not at all."

Edmund slipped into the room as soundlessly as a shadow, then sat on the edge of Peter's great bed.

"I have an idea," he began, "but I didn't want to mention it in front of the others until I knew what you thought of it: I was thinking it might be a good time to knight Per for assisting me in slaying the Harpy."

"Do you think he's ready?" Peter asked, not to cast any doubt on his brother's judgment but rather to confirm it.

"I do. He's been a right brick ever since he joined us in Anvard, and even though he was white with fright at jumping off of the Flying Horse's back into the cave, he just gritted his teeth and did it anyway. I only wish I would have thought of it at the time – it would have been nice to knight him there, on the field of battle so to speak; but I also think it would mean a lot to him if you did it, you know, as High King."

"I would have thought you should be the one to do it."

Edmund shook his head, although he was barely visible in the darkness. "No, because I'm the knight he's been a page to. It really ought to be you, Peter – as a courtesy to King Lune, too, since he entrusted us with Per."

"All right, Ed; if you're sure about it, I've no objections. It sounds like Per was a great help to you, and I hope it will help him feel more at home here."

"Yes, that's what I was thinking, too. And I was also wondering if we could give him a new name befitting a knight of Narnia. I know most first sons in Archenland have short names, but maybe something more like his father's..."

"So he can expunge his father's bad name, you mean?"

"Yes! Exactly. He seemed rather downcast at how poorly his father was regarded in Anvard; I think he might like the chance to redeem his family's honour."

"So... if his father's name was Percivan," Peter mulled, "he could be Percival, the knight in the Arthurian legend in our own world – or Persifal as it was originally, I believe..."

"I was trying to come up with a good name that sounds Narnian, all during the girls' stories," Edmund admitted. "What about 'Peridan'? Sort of like Captain Meridian, who was born and bred on the Lone Islands, but we could still call him 'Per' for short."

"Hmm... 'Peridan'... I do like the sound of it, although we should probably ask Per himself what he thinks."

Edmund nodded. "Of course. He might have some uncle or other relative he'd rather be named after. But if you're game, I'll talk to him tomorrow about everything and gauge his reaction."

"Sounds good, Ed. I say, you _have_ been rather busy, haven't you?"

Edmund blushed slightly at the teasing tone in Peter's voice.

"Well, it wasn't easy being the one in charge all the time," he countered, then leant over Peter's supine form to plant a kiss squarely on his forehead. "I can see now that it isn't easy to be you. Goodnight, Pete."

"Uh... G–Goodnight, Ed," Peter managed to stammer out in surprise, just before the slender form of his brother disappeared into the night.


	51. Vigil

My Fair Brother

* * *

The next morning the royal children gathered to study with the Centaurs after breakfast. Edmund and Per, having been absent for so long, had some catching up to do, but Edmund found it hard to concentrate on his book. The third time that Glordus cleared his throat as a gentle reminder, the young king had to force himself to tear his eyes away from the window. It was high summer in Narnia, when all the trees and flowers were growing and blossoming in wild, riotous colors and the young Beasts born that spring were testing their newfound ability to run, climb, or fly, so his inattention might be excused.

"Perhaps Your Majesty would prefer a more... **open-air** activity," Sageion wisely suggested.

"What sort of activity do you mean?" Edmund asked, curious but not yet hopeful. "You said yourself that I mustn't do any sword practise or archery yet."

"I would not recommend anything so strenuous, of course, until your shoulder is fully healed," Sageion agreed, "but something that would not risk worsening your injury, while allowing you to be out in the fresh air, may be a better choice than reviewing the history of the Great Fish and Frog Famine at this time."

"What do you have in mind?" Peter asked. Sageion had all of the children's attention by now.

"The poultice which Master Galen used upon King Edmund's injury is a very useful one – one that cleanses the wound and also encourages the skin to grow," the Centaur explained. "It would be beneficial for Your Majesties to learn the herbs that comprise it. Queen Lucy's magic cordial notwithstanding, there may come a time when you stand in need of such a remedy. I propose that we venture forth into the woods to see where each plant prefers to grow and gather what we may find."

This being agreeable to all of them, they collected as many baskets as they could carry from the kitchens and followed the Centaurs into the wood. Sageion taught them which leaves to look for, as well as how shady or light or wet or dry a spot the plants liked, and before long their baskets were filling up with healing herbs.

"It's like a treasure hunt," Susan remarked as she surveyed the varied contents of her basket.

"Or an Easter egg hunt," Lucy added with a laugh.

And indeed, with all the woodland Creatures who popped out of their dens and nests to see what the Kings and Queens were about, offering to help them find things or even directing them to where the various plants were growing, it was very like a scavenger hunt. Soon they had a large retinue of Chipmunks who chirped so merrily and loudly that even Glordus had to raise his voice to be heard above their din.

"I say, this was a capital idea," Peter said to Edmund as they picked the tender shoots off a bush.

Edmund beamed as though he had come up with it himself. "Sure beats staying indoors and trying not to fidget."

The brilliance of the younger boy's smile took Peter's breath away for a moment; he was glad of the interruption when Per brought over a thorny branch with some dark blue berries on it.

"Those are left from last autumn for a reason," Sageion told the boys. "It is poisonous to all but two kinds of birds. You'd best wash your hands in that brook – the poison will not kill you, but in large enough doses it can make you ill."

As Per rushed off to rid his hands of any traces of the poison, Edmund leaned over to whisper to Peter, "I haven't asked him about it yet, but I hope to after lunch."

"Oh. Of course," Peter replied, remembering in time what his brother was referring to. "I'll leave that up to you."

Edmund nodded before picking a few more of the leaves. He had to duck down to hide the grin that he could not prevent from spreading across his face. It felt good – no, better than good, absolutely **joyous** – to be home again and near his handsome older brother. He knew there would be times when they would, of necessity, be forced to spend time apart, but he fervently hoped that those times would not be often or long.

* * *

When Edmund finally got a word alone with Per, it was well after lunch and after Sageion had taught them how to prepare the herbs. Some needed to be crushed fresh to get the most benefit from their juices, while others needed to be dried in the sun first; the children had enlisted the aid of Morchaeus (who was the taller even than the Centaurs) to hang up their tidy little bundles of branches from the ceiling of a room facing the sea, where the constant breezes would allow them to dry without molding and the sun would bake them every morning. Their practical lessons over, the girls joined Felicity and Mrs. Dumplesugar in the gardens to help tend the vegetables as they had promised earlier. Peter had received a letter from the Governor of the Lone Islands, thanking him for the prompt delivery of fine lumber, which the High King was obliged out of courtesy to answer. So Edmund suggested a stroll out to the Horses' favorite meadow, to which his squire readily agreed.

"Peter and I were talking last night," Edmund began off-handedly as they walked out the western gate, "and we both think it's high time that you be knighted – for your services of valour, you know, for fighting the Harpy by my side."

Per stopped abruptly and stood there, rooted to the ground, his mouth agape and his eyes all but starting from his head.

"If I had thought of it, I should have knighted you right there on the field of battle," Edmund continued, halting his steps to turn and face Per. "As it is, it's rather belated, but it's also more befitting that you should be knighted by the High King himself, since it's **his** service that you'll be entering now."

"Do... Do you really mean...?" Per managed to gasp. He seemed to be having trouble breathing, so Edmund clapped him gently on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't be saying so if I didn't mean it, would I?"

"But... Your Majesty... I don't... I don't feel **ready**."

Edmund made a point of looking directly into his squire's eyes.

"You've already proven your worth to me, Per. A Knight of Narnia must be willing to fight – to risk his own neck and skin – to protect the Creatures of this land, and you've already shown that you're willing to do that. Wouldn't you do anything to keep the little furry ones safe? To ensure that the Talking Trees are free to roam the land, without fear of being hewn down?"

"O–Of course, Your Majesty! I would do all in my power, meager though it is."

"Then you are ready to be a Knight of Narnia," Edmund told him with conviction. "This isn't about being a great swordsman or warrior; it's about being ready and willing to do your part. Nobody could ask more of you than that. But it's also no less than your everything."

Per nodded soberly. "I understand, King Edmund. I... I will do my best, Sire."

A wry smile curved Edmund's lips as he replied, "I know you will. And if it's any consolation, I didn't feel ready to be King when Aslan crowned me, either, but I've managed to do all right. I'm just as glad that I'm not the High King, mind you, but I've found that I'm allowed to learn as I go. The folk here are generous enough to make allowance for the fact that we're only children yet."

As they continued walking to the meadow, Edmund told Per of the new name he had thought up for him.

"Although if there is another name you'd rather have, don't be shy of telling me," he quickly added.

"I... I could not have wished for a better one, Your Majesty," Per said with sincerity, then spoke the name aloud as though testing it on his tongue and in his ears. "Peridan... Peridan... Similar to Captain Meridian. It is a great name, and one that I hope to grow into, to do it justice."

"I'm sure of it," Edmund stated. Then with an impish grin he noted, "Only it will be **Sir** Peridan."

Per's jaw dropped again. He shook his head slowly, half disbelieving, as Edmund began acquainting him with the sound of it.

"So I shall be saying things like, 'Sir Peridan, would you join me for jousting practise today?' and 'We have a dangerous errand to be run – Sir Peridan is just the man for it!' and 'Sir Peridan, mind the Giant to your left.'"

Per was too overawed to even respond to Edmund's teasing, and he was still wrapped in stunned silence when they came up to the Horses.

"Are you well rested now, my friend?" Edmund asked Phillip as the Horse plodded up.

"As well as ever, Your Majesty, and ready for another adventure whenever you should call for one," Phillip answered with a whinny of amusement.

"Our next adventure shall be to find Sir Peridan a fitting partner in battle," Edmund said with a twinkle in his eye. When he had explained to Phillip whom he meant by "Sir Peridan," the Horse neighed in approval and called over the other Horses. All of them wanted to be the new knight's "battle partner," as Edmund had put it, but since there was only one of Per, the boy was not sure how the matter would be decided. However, Edmund had already given it some thought.

"Since Per is young for a Son of Adam, the Horse who carries him should be young, too, that they may forge a strong bond and be many years together," the King told the assembled Horses. "Since our Mares have the great task of bearing and raising the young, it would be best for a Stallion to be his mount. Also, his Horse must be willing to take orders from him, like any soldier would from his officer, and be skillful enough to gallop and jump without unseating him. And since they will be entrusting their lives to each other, I should hope they will become great friends – so it should be a Horse of courage and noble character."

While Edmund listed the required qualifications, a few of the Horses' long faces seemed to grow even longer, but some heads were nodding in approval.

"King Edmund, if I may," one older Mare spoke up. "I believe Aristides, a Colt of three summers, would be a good match. He is my sister's grandson, and a more even-tempered and polite lad you could not hope to see. He's quite light on his hooves, too, and since his sire is of a good size, I'm sure he could carry the Son of Adam very easily even when he's fully grown."

Edmund thanked her and asked her to have Aristides come to the castle if he were willing to undertake such a duty.

"And if anybody knows of other Horses who meet these expectations, please have them come to the Cair, too," he added. "We must make certain that both parties will be fond of each other, so even a fine young Colt like Aristides may not be the perfect match for Per."

Per held his tongue but thought to himself that he would be grateful for any of the magnificent Narnian Horses who might be willing to carry him, into battle or on long journeys. Right now, though, Per felt as if he were walking in a dream, and practically floated back to the castle with his King and friend.

* * *

Edmund was busy the next few days, preparing for Per's knighting ceremony. He consulted the Centaurs for their predictions on the weather, since some rain clouds had been rolling in from the east (a welcome sight for many who tilled the land), and sent a formal letter to Anvard announcing the occasion. Although he did not expect any visitors from Archenland for the ceremony, especially on such short notice, it was a happy sort of communication to send. Breezefoot the Stag, who was famous for his speed, fairly flew down the path with the satchel – containing the official letter as well as the girls' more newsy letters to Queen Primela – streaming in the air and bouncing off his back, held securely round his neck by a leather strap.

Once the day had been fixed, Edmund and Peter had asked Per how knightings were ordinarily done in Anvard, for the only sort that the brothers knew were their own, performed on the field of battle, and what they had read in books in our own world.

"I remember something about the night before, the knight-to-be must hold vigil in a chapel," Peter mused.

"We don't have any chapels in Narnia," Edmund pointed out. "I wonder why."

Peter laughed outright at that. "Why, you silly! As if Aslan could be kept in a building made of wood or even stone! All of Narnia is his land: the woods, the fields, the mountains, and the valleys. One place is as good as another to meet him, and he'll meet you wherever he chooses."

Edmund laughed at himself as well. "Of course! 'He's not a **tame** Lion,' after all."

Per looked a little nervous at the mention of the Great Lion. "Would... Do you think... Will Aslan really come?"

"I don't honestly know," Peter answered. "Like they say, he's not a tame Lion, to come whenever we call for him. But he may, if he has his own reasons to."

"Is it... Is he... **safe?**" Per asked, struggling to keep his voice from trembling. Peter shook his head.

"It's not like that – he's not like anyone else that I can describe. I believe Mr. Beaver said it best: 'Of course he's not safe, but he's **good**.' You'll understand if you ever get to meet him, as I hope you will someday. But you needn't worry about his eating you like a common lion or wild beast; he's much greater than that."

"And kind," Edmund put in, thoughtfully. "He can be stern, too, and that's worse than being scolded by your father and headmaster at the same time... but he's very kind. Don't worry, Per – you've nothing to fear from him. I had every reason to be fearful of him, but he dealt with me with more mercy than I ever deserved."

Seeing his brother's sober expression, Peter reached out to grip his uninjured shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Per did not quite understand what Aslan was like, but he relaxed upon seeing how fondly, and reverently, the two kings regarded him.

"Getting back to the business of knighthood," Peter began anew, "is there any ritual that the men of Archenland observe?"

"Your Highness mentioned holding vigil the night prior, and of that I know somewhat," Per replied. "The men slated to be knighted hold vigil on the tallest tower of Anvard, from whence the Great Eastern Ocean can be espied, in order to swear fealty to the great Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. I was tasked with keeping watch over two of them, to ensure that they did not falter in their watchfulness through all the watches of the night. They knelt on cushions upon the stone, dressed for battle and cloaked to prevent the morning dew from chilling them."

"Well there's hardly a room at Cair Paravel that **doesn't** overlook the Sea," Edmund remarked, "so you can take your pick of spots; but kneeling on flagstones, even with a cushion, sounds awfully rough. You could keep vigil on the beach, where the sand will be less hard on your knees and you'd be as close as you can get to the Ocean. Nobody goes down there at night, so it will be nice and private."

"That's a jolly good idea," Peter agreed. "We can ask a Dwarf or Faun to keep watch over you, just in case there are any wild animals roaming about."

"I will keep watch, too, for the matter of that," Edmund declared. "It's my right and duty as his Knight."

Before Per could open his mouth to object, horrified at the thought of placing such a burden on the young king, Peter spoke and made it official.

"Very well, then. I'll leave you to choose the other honour guard."

* * *

Augustus, an older and battle-seasoned Faun, was selected to be the second honour guard. The three of them tried to sleep in snatches during the day before, but Per was so nervous with excitement that he was not successful at all. At least he was also too thrilled to feel weary as he knelt upon the sand that night, gazing across the dark waves and up at the bright stars above. He pondered on the many things he had heard about Aslan and his father, the Emperor-over-the-Sea, hoping that his small skills would be an acceptable offering to them, or at least inoffensive enough to pass scrutiny. Edmund and Augustus took turns to check on Per, making sure he was comfortable and awake.

When the first rays of light streaked across the waters, striking the beach with golden glory, Edmund and Augustus awoke with a start. Per was standing tall, drinking in the sunlight, his shoulders square and his head held high. As his two honour guards sheepishly approached him, he turned a broad smile to them.

"It's all right, he said he had cast you both into a deep sleep," he said without preamble. "He wanted to speak to me in private – he called me his **son!**"

The wonder and the joy that shone in Per's face was unmistakable. With a laugh that was half a sob of gladness, Edmund embraced his friend and fellow Knight of Narnia.


	52. On the Hot Sands of the Shore

My Fair Brother

* * *

When Aristides arrived at Cair Paravel, Per (or Sir Peridan as we should now call him) was rather nervous to meet the Horse, but having King Edmund go with him to the stables helped soothe his nerves. Aristides was a tall and trim, not quite fully filled out yet, with a glossy black coat and white "socks" on his forelegs as well as a white star on his handsome nose. Peridan could not help but admire the fine Horse, and the Horse in turn studied the Son of Adam somewhat shyly.

"We have heard good things of you," Edmund said, addressing Aristides, "and we can see now that they were true. Has Phillip acquainted you with all the duties that would be expected of you, should you become Sir Peridan's mount?"

"He has, Your Majesty," the Horse answered with a slight bow.

"And do you still choose to avail yourself of this appointment? We would not think any less of you for declining, for it may well be a dangerous and often toilsome duty."

Aristides tossed his head and stamped the ground with a rear foot. "Sire, I would consider it an honour to serve the High King and Aslan in whatever way I am able; if you and Sir Peridan consider me fit for such duties, I shall strive to fulfill them as long as my legs will carry me."

"Very well then," Edmund said, satisfied. "All that remains is to see how well those legs will carry you with the added burden of a rider."

Peridan set about saddling the Horse, which was a tricky business since Aristides had never been ridden before and was unfamiliar with all the tack and gear. Of course the White Witch had enslaved many Horses to do her bidding, but she had been defeated when Aristides was very young; and the Horse's mother had also moved far to the West to ensure that her Foal would not be captured by the Witch's minions. As Peridan explained the various parts of the saddle and put them on Aristides, he realised anew how restrictive they must seem to the freeborn Narnian Beast. His gentle manner soon put the Horse at ease, however, and once the young knight was seated upon his back, Aristides had no trouble carrying him out to the fields, where they practised trotting and, once they were comfortable enough, cantering.

"He seems a good match for Per – or Sir Peridan, I mean," Phillip remarked.

"Yes. They seem to be getting on well," Edmund agreed with a smile.

* * *

Since no other Horse applied for the post, it was quickly settled that Aristides would be Peridan's mount, but the new knight thought he could not have asked for better. Aristides was nimble and eager for adventure (as most Colts tend to be), and he soon asked to hear Peridan's tale of encountering the Harpy. Having grown up in the Western Wild, Aristides was familiar with the various places Peridan had visited and expressed his regret at not being with him on that journey. Although Peridan was already wise enough to know that adventures were not always exciting but terrifying, that serving one's king and country was often filled with drudgery, he was grateful to have a Steed of good mettle who would not shrink in the face of a challenge. Aristides also comported himself well in their training sessions with the Centaurs, proving to all that the two were an excellent match as a Horse and his rider.

* * *

High summer came upon Narnia in a blaze of heat and glory. The east wind brought refreshing rainclouds from the sea almost every evening, but the scorching heat at midday was nearly unbearable. Most Creatures sought the dark shades of the forest or, if they were the burrowing sort, the cool underground passageways dug by their ancestors. The royal children tried to keep the work at the castle to a minimum, urged the Beasts to return to their homes or seek respite from the heat in the tunnels below, and spent much of their own time at the beach. The Dwarfs set up a pavilion to provide shade, where they would retreat after dipping in the water, longing for faint breezes to stir the sweltering air.

Peridan chose to use this time to learn how to swim better. As a Knight of Narnia he felt it was his duty to master this skill as well as jousting, swordfighting, and the like, so the young kings took turns teaching him in the shallows where he could still touch the bottom with his toes – first to relax and float, then to make some headway in the water. Lucy and Susan joined them occasionally before retreating to the pavilion to rest and read.

"I feel lazy for not working on my embroidery at least," Susan commented while watching the boys splash about in the water.

"It would be hard to keep the sand out of it here," Lucy observed as she dusted off a cushion. "And it's too hot to think straight, anyway – you might make a mistake and have to do it over."

"I suppose you're right. But I do feel rather useless just sitting here when Peter and Ed are out in the sun, helping Per swim."

"It looks more like they're having fun," Lucy pointed out. And indeed, her brothers were laughing and shouting encouragements to their friend, making sport of what might otherwise have been a dull lesson.

"It does, doesn't it?" Susan smiled, fanning herself with a brilliantly coloured fan of peacock feathers. "I say, Lu, it looks like Peter is back to his old self again. I haven't seen him laugh so in... oh, ages!"

The younger queen's face lit up with joy as the notion seemed proven: Peridan had accidentally splashed Edmund in the face while kicking in the water, and Peter, laughing, was scooping up large handfuls to toss in his direction as well. With as hot as it was, the cool water was welcome even when unexpected, so Edmund only shook out his dripping hair and retaliated good-naturedly.

"I do think you're right! Peter looks happy now. I suppose he must have been worried about Ed while he was gone."

"He had good reason to be," Susan replied thoughtfully. The mere idea of her brother fighting a Harpy in close combat made her feel a chill which had nothing to do with the scant breeze rolling in from the sea. She was glad that Edmund's shoulder was mostly healed now – well enough that he had taken up some light knife-throwing lessons with Hoblin the Dwarf – but having seen such monsters on the night Aslan had been slain by the White Witch, Susan knew how easily her brother might have been injured beyond hope of recovery, and it made her blood run cold.

"Oh, look! Per just swam that far on one breath. He's learning very quickly."

"Yes, he is, but I hope they don't tire him out."

* * *

Peter was, in fact, feeling more at ease now than he had in a long while. A great part of the reason was that Edmund had returned home, of course; another was that his persistent younger brother had stopped trying to engage him in inappropriate behaviour. Since they now had their bedtime tea served in the den with the others, Edmund no longer had the opportunity to sit on his lap or initiate any other sort of intimate contact; and, much to Peter's relief, he had not asked to resume that routine. Peter hoped that the trip to the Western Wild, not to mention the battle with the Harpy, had put such things out of his mind. Indeed Edmund **did** seem more kingly and grown-up upon his return. The responsibility of caring for his subjects and coming face to face with their troubles might have steadied him a bit, Peter thought.

However, every so often Edmund would slip into his room from the balcony to discuss something in private with the High King. Although these nocturnal visits were quite businesslike, revolving around whatever matters of state they had at hand, before leaving Edmund would get up from his perch on the edge of Peter's bed and lean in to place a kiss on his older brother's forehead. Peter chastised himself severely for deriving pleasure from that sweet, seemingly innocent and brotherly kiss, but the fact remained that he now looked forward to Edmund's late-night visits. And in his dreams, that kiss would be bestowed upon his lips instead, and he would return it with unspeakable passion.

Little did he know what great restraint Edmund had imposed upon himself to limit his gesture of affection to those brief kisses, but the younger king had, upon his return to the castle, determined to keep his actions above reproach. Seeing his brother conduct himself around Lucy (whom Edmund still believed to be the object of Peter's love) with perfect courtliness and gentlemanlike behaviour, regardless of how deeply his heart (no doubt) pined for her, gave Edmund a model to which to aspire. So he did his best to mimic his elder's example, although there were many nights when he breathed heavy sighs and wished for more than what his situation afforded him. The very crown of Narnia, for which he had once been willing to trade his siblings, no longer seemed too great a price to pay in exchange for the one thing his heart truly desired: for Peter to accept and return his love.

* * *

It came as no surprise to any of the siblings that Peridan fell fast asleep after stretching out on a blanket, exhausted by the exercise. He had worked tirelessly until he could swim five times the length of his body, at which point Peter had congratulated him and wisely suggested they return to the pavilion. The girls had welcomed them back with praises and fruit, but the young knight had succumbed after only a few bites. The siblings then fell to pantomiming so as to let the boy sleep, and Lucy had to bury her face in a cushion when she got the giggles.

The two brothers were not very tired yet, so after some whispered conversation they decided to head out to the rocks that rose above the waves about a furlong out from the shore and north of the mouth of the Great River. Susan expressed concern over their plans, worried about Edmund's injured shoulder, but he assured her that it was well enough for such a short excursion and the brothers struck out into the gentle swells towards their goal.

It was a testament to Peter's attentiveness that he noticed Edmund's distress immediately, at about three quarters of the way to the rocks. Edmund was a length or two behind him when the beat of his arms against the water suddenly became erratic.

"What the matter?" Peter asked, stopping to tread water while his brother labouriously swam closer. "Is it your shoulder?"

"No – cramp! In my leg," Edmund gasped, wincing in pain.

"Here, catch hold of me," Peter directed, calm despite his alarm. When Edmund managed to wrap his arms about his neck, lying across his back, Peter surged towards the rocks with powerful strokes and kicks. Despite his pain, Edmund could not help but marvel at the strength in his brother's body.

As they neared the rocks, Edmund let go and managed to swim the rest of the way until he was clinging to the jagged outcropping. It took a minute for both of them to catch their breaths, then they took turns rubbing the taut muscle at the back of Edmund's thigh until it had un-cramped.

"Thanks, Pete. I don't know if I could have made it on my own," Edmund said, bending and stretching his leg in an effort to loosen it further.

"Don't mention it. Though you did give me a turn there for a moment." Peter surveyed their location before asking, "Do you think you can make it to shore?"

Edmund squinted at the nearest point of land, which was marked by many rocks jutting out into the sea, but there was a passage through them to a small, sandy beach. "I think so. If we go north of the rocks, it should be fairly easy to get to that little cove."

Peter nodded. "From there it looks like a bit of a climb up into the forest, but then we can walk inland to the bridge across the River. With any luck, we should come across some Birds who can let the girls know where we are."

After resting their limbs for a few more minutes, the boys headed towards land, this time with Edmund in front so Peter could see if he had any trouble again. Fortunately, the sea was calm and what waves there were only pushed them more quickly to shore, so they arrived at the beach without mishap. The afternoon sun afforded them no shade, but they were glad enough to be on dry land. Edmund sat down to knead his sore muscles.

"Here, let me have a go at it," Peter offered, kneeling in front of Edmund and straddling his leg. He pushed Edmund's tunic out of the way and went to work on his thigh with gentle strokes, rubbing the underside through the fabric of his short trousers. The wet layer of cloth made it cumbersome, though, so after a minute he pushed that up as well, exposing Edmund's pale, shapely thigh... CENSORED FOR ADULT CONTENT

* * *

A/N: If you are 18 or older, please read this story in its entirety at my website, TheaNishimori dot WordPress dot com.


	53. CENSORED Happiness

Panting as he lay upon Edmund, Peter nuzzled his brother's hot skin and, once he had caught his breath, peppered it with kisses. Edmund's smooth chin, his tender throat, his damask cheeks – all were lovingly caressed by Peter's lips. If the High King felt any misgivings about allowing himself to so freely express his love, they were forgotten when Edmund began returning the gestures with hungry kisses of his own. When their lips met, almost by chance, they were lost in a maelstrom of desire and long-denied passion. In their eagerness they devoured one another, tongues wrangling and teeth gnashing as they tasted of each other's sweetness.

Their hands were not idle, either, grasping for better handholds as though the very air might seek to tear them apart without proper anchorage. Edmund trembled with joy to feel Peter's rough palms sliding over his torso, and he rose up to meet them, presenting his lithe young body unreservedly to his lover.

CENSORED FOR ADULT CONTENT

When they were both spent beyond all sense or comprehension, Peter bent over his lover to press his lips against the dark-lashed eyelids – the delicate petals of flesh hiding the flashing orbs which had oft tormented him in his dreams. When they opened now, however, they were filled only with the soft glow of love. Peter wept, not knowing why, as he kissed his brother repeatedly.

"Peter… Pete…" Edmund mumbled, "I love you… I love you… so much!"

"Ed… Oh, Ed… I love you, too…"

Their mouths locked for a long, delectable moment. When they parted for lack of air, Peter hovered over Edmund, poised on weakened limbs, and looked full into the face of his love.

"Edmund… So… beautiful," he panted, feeling as though his heart had burst open and bled itself onto the lovely creature lying now beneath him. "Why… Why are you… so beautiful? You drive me to distraction… to **madness**…"

Edmund's mouth fell open – further open, for he had already been gulping in great draughts of air – as his brother's words sank in to his mind.

"I… do?" he asked, astonished.

"Yes!" Peter cried, burying his face in Edmund's neck. "Why else would I give up all reason – every last shred of it – to touch you so? What would drive me to seek that which is forbidden, against all seemliness and decorum and… and natural affection, to use and abuse you so? I cannot bear it! I cannot… bear it…"

So saying, Peter fell limply upon his lover's body, unable to muster the strength (either physical or otherwise) to tear himself apart from Edmund. Shame overcame him as he realised what he had done and, even more, what perverse delight he had taken in it.

"But… Peter," Edmund began, "you don't **need** to bear it! I love you more than anything, and I will gladly let you do this to me – and more – if it pleases you. It pleases me, too! In fact, it is the most wonderful thing I have ever known, the most wonderful thing I have wished for in all my life." Wrapping his legs around his brother to hold him close, Edmund gave his shoulders a little shake. "Peter, don't be an ass! I want nothing more than to have you use me so, as often as you wish, for as long as you may. I would wish to be your wife, if I'd been born a girl; if I hadn't been your sister, that is, although that's not right, either. If I'd been born to another family, I might never have known you, and that would have been awful! But if I'd been your sister, we couldn't have done this for fear our children would have been born with deformities. By gum! I'm making a fair muddle of this," he sighed.

"The fault is mine," Peter whispered. "I should never have allowed this to happen."

"Confound it, Peter!" Edmund yelled and, with a surprising burst of strength, overturned his brother so that their positions were reversed and he straddled him on his knees. Staring down into Peter's upturned face, he forced him to meet his eyes. "I love you! And **not** as a brother! It took me long enough to sort out, but now I know: I would **marry** you if such a thing were allowed. But since it's not, I'd rather have the next best thing, which is to be your help in this until such a time as you **must** take a wife. Don't deny me this, Peter, or… or I fear I shall…**die**," he ended with an ill-concealed sob.

Peter's expression had grown from shock to wonder as Edmund had poured out his fervour. Now he stroked his brother's dark locks and placed his palm gently on his cheek.

"You can't mean that," he murmured, scarcely daring to breathe. "It's not possible."

"I can and I do!" Edmund declared. "And I don't give a fig if it's unnatural or… unseemly! I**love** you," he insisted, "and I want nothing more than to be with you, to be by your side, whether you go to war or to bed. I would gladly give up everything I have, everything I hold dear, if only I could be your wife!" A tear fell out of one eye and dropped to Peter's tunic as Edmund fought to control the quiver in his lips. "Why was I not born a woman?" he whispered as though to himself. "Why could I not have been given the chance, at least, to become what I most desire? What fault did I have – what crime did I commit – to be destined to live so close to the one I love, only to be denied that love forever?"

Peter pulled Edmund down upon himself, clasping him against his breast in a vain effort to be conjoined with him at their hearts.

"Oh, Edmund! It was no crime, only a cruelty of fate, that made us brothers! For I would gladly give up my crown and all else, if only I could take you for my love and my wife," he confessed. "But don't wish to be a woman on my account – for, as unnatural as it may be, I love you just the way you are."

Edmund, though he had so lately despaired, felt a surge of joy at Peter's words and pressed himself away from him so as to better observe his face.

"You do?" he asked. "You would? You truly, honestly, would make me your… wife?"

"If I could, yes," Peter answered, resigned to admitting the truth now that his actions had belied it. "I love you… I have loved you… for a long time now."

"But… But…" Comprehension finally dawned in Edmund's mind. "Do you mean to say… that **I **was the one you wanted? Not the Mermaid, not Lucy, but… **me?**"

"Yes," Peter said, wanting nothing more than to kiss his astounded brother on his rubious lips again. "I told you, there never was a Mermaid. But I couldn't jolly well **tell** you that I'd fallen in love with you – with my own brother, like a senseless fool! – let alone have the girls catch on. So when you came up with your idea about the Mermaid… well, I wasn't about to tell you otherwise."

"Oh, Peter!" Edmund cried, half laughing, half angry. "What an enormous ass you've been! If only you'd spoken up and told me the truth, right from the beginning, what needless worry you might have saved me! Not to mention yourself," he added, with a tender stroke to Peter's cheek. "For I would have been happy to oblige you. I daresay I might not have realised it myself at the time, but I've been in love with you for a long while as well. I simply couldn't figure out the bees because I wasn't thinking in the proper direction."

Peter squinted up at him in confusion. "What's this about bees? And what did you mean about Lucy, before?"

With a self-deprecating chuckle, Edmund explained, "I kept feeling like I had a swarm of bees and hornets in my stomach, buzzing and stinging me, but didn't know why. It took me forever to put two and two together – I felt them whenever I was **jealous**… of **you**. Whenever you were talking to someone and seemed to be enjoying yourself, or when those girls in Anvard came up to you with food and drink. It wasn't until I'd talked to Per and Darian that I knew it was a sign of being in love. I'd never paid much attention to those sorts of things, you know, so it had never occurred to me that I might have caught it myself. And as for Lucy, after you'd told me you weren't in love with a Mermaid, I was trying to think of who there might be – someone you might love without being able to marry – and she was the closest guess I had."

"You didn't guess too far off," Peter said with a sigh. "I might as well have fallen for Lucy, or Susan for that matter…"

"But Peter! That's the beauty of it," Edmund interrupted excitedly. "It's not like you have to worry about having a baby with me, so we might as well enjoy this while we can! If you want me this way, and I know I want you just as much if not more, what better arrangement could we have? And don't give me all that rot about it being improper; it happens all the time at Anvard and nobody's the worse for it."

Peter gaped at his brother, his mind working too sluggishly to refute what Edmund had said. It ceased functioning altogether when Edmund bent down to shower him with playful kisses.

"You are… such a… ridiculous… worrywart," the younger king declared between planting his lips on Peter's exposed skin, "but I love you… so much! And I have… no idea… how you managed… all this time… without telling me! It would have… driven me… insane!"

"Perhaps I am," Peter murmured, then clutched Edmund tightly to halt his ministrations. "Perhaps I really **am** crazy, Ed, for now I don't care! I want you so much… I love you… so much!"

Pulled back into his brother's embrace, Edmund thought he might burst for sheer joy. "Then we can be crazy together, Pete. I shan't mind anything so long as you're with me."

Peter laughed a bit breathlessly, for he felt rather winded by this sudden turn of events, but as the heat of Edmund's body permeated his own and transferred the strong, steady heartbeat of the younger boy to him, he heaved a sigh of relief. It **had** been hard to keep such a momentous secret from his brother for so long, and it was unutterably satisfying to clasp him in his arms, the euphoria of their combined release not yet having faded. They lay there, snuggled together as though the searing sun's rays were not enough to warm them, for a long while. Edmund was content to lie there in silence, simply enjoying the long-sought-after intimacy with his love, and Peter could not for the life of him say why such sweet communion had seemed so abhorrent to him before. In fact, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Eventually, however, both young kings realised that they would be missed by their sisters and the rest of their folk. Peter was the first to speak, squinting up at the sun which had by now traveled noticeably in its course.

"I say, Ed… we had better be getting back."

"I suppose you're right." Edmund peeled himself, with some difficulty, from Peter's side to sit up and assess their location. "Those rocks don't look like they'd be easy to climb at all. And they're probably scorching from being in the sun all day."

"Yeah. We may be better off swimming back, if you're up for it."

Edmund grinned at him. "I'm sure I can manage. And if not, I'll have you haul me to shore and rub my leg again."

Peter blushed, though it was barely visible on his tanned skin. "As long as we can find a cove that's sheltered like this one and hidden from sight… for you know where **that** might lead…"

Edmund leaned close to his brother and impudently kissed his nose. "I should think so! Or at least I know where I would **like** that to lead."

"Ed…" Peter began, then hesitated.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking, you know… it wouldn't be good to have the others catching on. But I just… I don't know how well I'll be able to let on that I… that we… are only **brothers**."

Edmund grew sober on the instant. "I know we have to be discreet about it, but you're right: I'm not sure how I'm going to hide the fact that… well, that I'm so **happy!**"

Peter drank in the smile that threatened to engulf his fair brother's face. "You truly are… happy?"

"Yes," Edmund replied, his eyes dancing with light. "I can't remember a time, in this world or the other, when I've been any happier."

Peter impulsively pulled him close to kiss his coral pink lips once more. "Neither can I," he whispered, gazing down upon his love with unveiled fondness.

"We'll just have to pretend to be **very** close brothers," Edmund suggested with an impish grin. "Because, after all, we really are."

"Yes. And more," Peter pronounced while gently tracing the curve of Edmund's cheek with a finger. "So much more."

They kissed again, savouring the depths of their love, before finally moving back into the water.

"It's just as well that we're swimming back," Edmund remarked, ever the practical one, "since we've made rather a mess of our clothes. We should wash out as much as we can before we go back."

They grabbed handfuls of fine sand with which to scrub their tunics, and when they were both certain that no discernible stains remained, they struck out for the beach where their sisters and friends were awaiting their return. They explained their long absence by saying they had gone exploring among the rocks of the north shore, though they had found surprisingly little of interest.

‹‹‹‹‹ ж ›››››

Peter declined to take his bath with Edmund and Peridan that night, fearful that the sight of his brother's naked beauty might make his desperate attraction obvious to the new Knight and Mr. Griswold. He took his turn after the two younger boys had finished and left for their respective rooms.

A short while later, Edmund tapped on the windowed door leading from the balcony into Peridan's room. Startled, Peridan dropped the old broom handle with which he had been practising some swordfighting lunges.

"Sorry," Edmund said with a wince as the stick clattered on the floor. "I was hoping you might have a moment."

"Of course, Your Majesty," the Knight responded gravely, thinking there was something amiss.

Edmund slipped in and closed the door, took a deep breath, and started, "I need to ask for your help in a… personal matter. And I must ask you to swear to secrecy. Nobody can know – not even my sisters. **Especially** my sisters," he amended.

"My Lord, you know my life and fealty are yours. Ask of me whatsoever you will, and I shall strive to obey."

Edmund smiled, genuinely relieved. "I know you will, Per, and I can't tell you how glad I am to have you here, for there's nobody else I could ask this of." He perched on the arm of a sturdy chair and motioned for the other boy to make himself comfortable as well. "I remember when you and Darian had… come together… you said it was wonderful – the most wonderful thing that had ever happened."

"Yes. It was," Peridan affirmed, a slow smile curving the edges of his mouth.

"And yet you had also said that before, with the other men of Anvard, it had been… painful."

A faint shadow swept over the Knight's brow as he nodded. "Yes. At the hands of uncaring men, it can be a torment and a horror."

"I need to you tell me – to show me, if necessary – how to ensure that it is pleasurable, not painful," Edmund confided.

Peridan gaped at him for a moment, then swallowed back the obvious question. He knew the young King would only ask for such information if he had reason to believe that he would need to use it.

"Of course, Your Majesty. Where shall we begin?"

* * *

A/N: If you are 18 or older, you can read this story in its entirety at my website, Thea Nishimori dot WordPress dot com. The chapters here on FF will grow increasingly sparse due to self-censorship.


	54. EXCERPT Consummation

A/N: This chapter is pretty much a smutfest, so I can only post a few chapters here. Again, if you're 18 or older, you can read it in its entirety at my website, Thea Nishimori dot Word Press dot com.

* * *

When Edmund informed Per of his great discovery – that Peter was just as much in love with him as Edmund was with Peter – the young Knight was sincerely overjoyed for the Kings. Edmund also confided in him that he hoped to persuade his elder brother to indulge in full carnal pleasure with him, now that he knew Peter's resolve was weakened by his charms, and he asked Per to help him prepare for the deed straightaway rather than waste time on lengthy explanations.

"After all," Edmund noted, "it seems the sort of thing better learnt by experience than talk."

He also knew that Per would be discountenanced with embarrassment if made to speak of the details much, and so he approached the process as matter-of-factly as he could. It was a messier undertaking than Edmund had expected (despite the particular bodily orifice involved) and had he been more squeamish he might have been tempted to give it up altogether. However, he had his heart set on the prize, so with Per's encouragement and reassurances that the end result would be worthwhile, he plugged on. It was fortunate for them that Per had a new and rather large bottle of sword-polishing oil; even so, a good bit of it was used up by the time the Knight declared his Sire ready to be joined with a man of the High King's girth and length, and Edmund's nightshirt was hopelessly soiled. Since Edmund was planning to be soon rid of it, he used its hem to wipe dry the handle of Per's dagger (which Per had ingeniously thought to use and had been an invaluable tool for their purpose) after washing it thoroughly.

"I cannot thank you enough for your assistance... and friendship," Edmund told Per with heartfelt sincerity as they finished cleaning up the Knight's room. "I am forever in your debt."

"It is a small matter, Your Majesty," Per replied, still blushing but with genuine pleasure. "I wish you both great joy in the consummation of your long-awaited desires. May it be all you have hoped and dreamed of, and more."

"Thanks. I'm sure it will," Edmund said with a grin before leaving.


End file.
